


Flowers From A Wasteland

by Pale Rider (Boothros)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boothros/pseuds/Pale%20Rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Doyle’s rescue from the clutches of a vicious, sadistic gang, the partners become closer than ever.<br/>However it's obvious that Doyle is deeply scarred from his ordeal. In an effort to help him, Bodie takes him away from the pressures of London for a short stay in the quiet English countryside.<br/>There, they meet a charming, enigmatic man whose interest in Bodie undermines Doyle’s confidence even further.<br/>Can Bodie ever bring happiness and security to the man he loves, or will Doyle be lost to him forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers From A Wasteland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlightmead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/gifts).



> Heartfelt thanks to both MLM for the inspiration and help and to Rozel for being a wonderful reader and editor.

Flowers From A Wasteland

 

 

_“A walking rainbow a heart filled with gold in crossing the path of many lives that are broken, battered and sold”_

_Flowers in the Wasteland ~ Lisa Chappell_

 

~~~oOo~~~

It was the sort of undercover that Ray Doyle detested and he offered silent thanks that in two days, his part in the case would all be over.

He'd cursed George Cowley for landing him with it, but had understood the controller’s reasons. His own abilities for undercover work and his mile wide moral conscience made him an obvious choice for the role. And when all was said and done, he couldn't really baulk at being asked to do his job. It was still the worst however. Sex cases turned his stomach and he swore to himself that when the case was all wrapped up, he would bury ‘Ray Duncan’ forever.

He looked around his hotel suite dispiritedly. The plush surroundings were outstanding and a week’s habitation in these rooms easily cost more than a month’s worth of Ray Doyle's wages. For Ray Duncan, a darkly enigmatic businessman wishing to get a lucrative foothold into the world of very exclusive pornography, it was a normal setting and Doyle crossed himself with the irony of it.

Though he did little more physically than his daily run, the case was exhausting him. The team had been worked into the ground before his op had started and he desperately needed some proper rest. The mental anguish was as arduous as marathon training and Doyle knew that when it was all over, he seriously needed to see Cowley about scoring himself and Bodie some leave.

A gentle knocking at the door shook him from his reverie. On alert, he quickly jumped to the door to ascertain the knocker’s identity.

"It's Jay, Mr. Duncan. Wondered if you'd like a little company?"

Grimacing slightly, Doyle admitted the lanky blond. He found it galling to have to turn on the Duncan charm to him, but knew that Jason was an essential cog in the filthy wheel of the case.

"Wow, nice pad, Mr. Duncan! Can I call you Ray?"

"No you can't."

"Oh come on, you’re such a grouchy sod, Mr. Duncan! I've told you so many times how I could be so good for you."

Not for the first time, Doyle felt sorry for the individual in front of him, but he still had his brusque image to maintain.

"And as I've told you time and time again, Jay, I'm not in the least interested in your skinny arse or your big mouth. I wanna watch it, buy it and when I find the right price sell it. I'm a businessman, not one of your cheap tricks on the side that Mossman doesn't know about. Try it on with me just one more bloody time, I'll break your fucking arm, got it?"

Cowed, Jason lowered his eyes and Doyle's heart almost broke for him.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake! Okay, if you promise to cut the crap you can stay for a bit. And I MEAN a bit, got it? Now make yourself useful and go and pour me a drink. Scotch, large. You can fix one for yourself as long as you make it considerably smaller, okay?"

The young man’s joy at the reprieve was undisguised and he leapt over to the cabinet preparing the drinks with gleeful enthusiasm.

Covertly flicking the switch on his voice recorder, Doyle cursed himself having to use the boy in this way, knowing that Jason would be drinking a lot more whisky before the night was through.

"So tell me a bit about yourself, Jay," he started, suddenly slumping back into the voluminous sofa and putting on a relaxed air.

"What do you want to know, Mr. Duncan?"

"Oh for Christ's sake! You can call me Ray for now, but if you do that in front of anyone else, expect to be shitting razor blades for a week!"

"Yes, Mr. Duncan … I mean, Ray. So what _do_ you want to know?"

"Well for one, why are you working for a tosser like Mossman? It’s obvious you can turn a trick pretty well enough on your own and I get the impression most of his lot don't come out of it quite as well as you have. What gives?"

Jason looked downcast before replying.

"Whatever you think of ‘im, Mr. Mossman's been good to me. Okay, I was scratchin’ a living before 'e found me and I wasn't given much choice about workin' for 'im. But I was clever, see? I made him realise he needed me."

"In what way?"

"Well like you said, most of the kids in the films aren’t really seen much afterwards. They certainly don't hit the big time. Most of ‘em havn’t been on the streets long when he picks ‘em up and they're scared shitless by the time I get to see ‘em. That’s where a bit of training comes in 'andy.”

"Go on ..."

"Well I made a couple of films, but I got the vibe that Mr. Mossman wasn't quite as keen with me as he was before and I wasn't 'avin' it, see? He'd paid me better money than I'd made in a while and when I saw some of those sad wankers come in that probably never even 'ad a blow job, never mind give one, I offered to teach 'em."

"Teach them?"

"Well they’re just like little lambs some of 'em. I know how the films are s’posed to come out. They're _meant_ to look scared. Most of it is S &M stuff and the first time they see some of the sets, they completely freak out. Well that’s 'till I step in and start to coach 'em that is. Turns out I'm a better teacher than I was a whore. Now I'm Mr. Mossman's right hand man!"

“Don’t you ever wonder what happens to them afterwards? And doesn’t it worry you that they don’t seem happy about doing it?”

“Not my problem is it? I know what side me breads buttered Mr. … Ray. I got meself a job to do an’ I gets on with it.”

Not wishing to seem too concerned for the other actors, Doyle was nevertheless appalled. He knew that more than one bloated Thames victim had 'starred' in Mossman's filth. The fact that this poor boy was deluding himself simply by being left alive was depressing to the core. He didn't really want to hear more but warming to his subject, Jason seemed perfectly happy to go on.

"Then there are the parties of course."

"Parties?"

"Yeah, very exclusive the parties are. You don't get invited to one unless Mr. Mossman knows you can come up with the right sort of dosh."

"People pay to go to a party?"

"Sure they do and they pay well for what they get an' all."

"Well out with it for heaven’s sake, what do they bloody get?"

Doyle was getting irritated, recognising Jason's unsubtle attempt at luring him into spending more money with Mossman. 'Parties' however, were not something that investigations had uncovered, so he tried not to appear too tetchy in case the boy dried up on him. He needn't have worried. Jason had smelt a commission a mile off and was just getting into his stride.

"Well what happens see, is a bunch of guys, not that many you understand, say around ten of 'em, get a special invite to a party. And what they pay for, is a sex slave to use as they like. Within reason of course!"

"What does ‘within reason’ mean?"

"Well they HAVE to wear a rubber – Mr. Mossman is quite insistent about that, ever since one old bloke caught the clap and blamed Mr. Mossman's model. The bloke couldn't prove it and he was a crusty old bastard anyway, but that's why the rule was put in. And they can't damage the model in any way. Least not until they've all had a go with him, not fair otherwise, they all paid the same fee after all. After that, they can more or less do what they like to him. I was the model twice but the second time someone complained that they'd 'ad me before so Mr. Mossman wouldn't let me do it after that. I didn't mind that so much. To be honest being the model at a party ain't all that great but I still wanted the money didn't I, so now I help host the events. I make sure they all got whatever they need, kick the model’s arse a bit if he ain't performing well enough. I even get him ready for it beforehand, give him a bit of a helpin' hand, you know?"

"And the models? How do they get picked?"

"Sometimes it's by special request. Sometimes Mr. Mossman just gets fed up with 'em on film and lets ‘em go out with a bang. Either way, nobody really wants to do it. Your career's mostly finished once you've done one. The fantasy's over for them once they've 'ad you, see? Watching you on film just ain't the same after that. Also ten blokes can be a lot to take on at any one time, especially those that can get it up twice!"

Jason sounded faintly proud of his prowess and Doyle tried to swallow his rising nausea with more Scotch.

Whilst preparing more drinks, Jason eyed Mr. Duncan appreciatively. For all the man’s indifference towards him, he liked Duncan very much. Fawning to Mr. Mossman's clients was so often a chore, particularly those who required extra special pampering. Mr. Duncan however, would cause no such qualms. If only he were to ask, Jason would be more than pleased to oblige. The man looked tired and not really expecting anything to happen, Jason slipped him the mickey anyway. A boy had to earn a living after all.

Within ten minutes or so, Duncan's mood improved dramatically. Not so much that Jason fancied making a move on him, all Duncan’s previous warnings still rang clearly enough in Jason's head to prevent that stupidity. But he'd definitely loosened up enough for Jason to risk trying to get him to open up a bit.

"So, what about you, Mr. Duncan … Ray?"

"What?"

"Well why not tell me something about you?"

Duncan, looking extremely woozy, closed his eyes and sank back into the cushion, a broad grin plastered on his face. He hadn't refused to answer the question however, so Jason pushed on.

"Come on, it's nice to chat and I like talking to you. Tell me more about yourself."

"Nosey little shit aren't you. Watchya wanna know?"

Jason smiled inwardly.

"Well, nice looking bloke like you, anyone special in your life? I mean you seem to seem to ignore all my charms, but I KNOW you’re crazy for Mr. Mossman's queer stuff, so it’s a bit obvious you like to walk on the wild side."

Were Doyle in his right mind at that moment he might well have vomited, but the tab was working its way quickly through his system. All he felt was a growing feeling of contentment and camaraderie that made Jason suddenly seem like his best friend in the world.

Winking conspiratorially, he leaned forward and slung an arm around Jason's shoulder. Jason hid a smile as Duncan started to slur his words.

"Thing is, Jay old son, them's in those films, them's just boys. Don't need boys do I when I could have a man? I mean birds, birds are okay, but it’s a MAN I really want, not bloody birds."

"Oh yeah, you got someone in mind then?"

"OH yeah. Fuckin' gorgeous he is too, but trouble is, he won't look twice at me, which is a real ... a real SHAME, Jay 'cos I could make him happy. I COULD you know, I could make him happy if only he'd let me."

"Got a name then, 'as 'e?"

"OH yes! He's called Bodie! Bodie, Bodie, Bodie."

"So why don't you tell this 'Bodie' how you feel then, Ray, can only say no can't he?"

"No can't tell him that, old son. He looks after me, see? We look after each other and if ... and if I were tell ... tell him THAT, then well he wouldn't want to look after ol' Ray no more would he? NO! He'd probably go straight to the old man and ask for another partner wouldn't he? Then I'd be all on my own again see? That's if he didn't just kill me outright of course."

Doyle giggled sadly to himself and Jason was confused. The conversation had suddenly gotten away from him. He'd had no idea that Duncan had a partner, one who could seemingly have Duncan on a plate if he so chose to and even less idea who this 'Old Man' might be. It occurred to him that Duncan might be a lot more dangerous than he'd first imagined and was suddenly rather pleased that he'd kept his hands to himself. In fact his new found knowledge almost stopped his next move. Had he not owed at least two equally dangerous dealers a bit more than Mossman was due to pay him, it would have done. Duncan was due to do a deal with Mossman and with luck Jason wouldn't ever have to see him again.

Looking up from his thoughts, he saw that the other man had gently fallen asleep where he sat and was snoring softly. Forcing himself to sit still for a few more moments, just to be sure, Jason heard the subtle changes in Duncan's breathing as he fell deeper. Quick and quiet as a cat, Jason moved to the dining area where Duncan's expensive jacket was slung over the back of a chair. He patted it down, quickly locating the wallet. Glancing over, he assured himself that his quarry was indeed, out for the count.

The wallets contents were a sight for sore eyes but came as no great surprise to him. There must have been a grand in there, all the better for him, he would just take what he needed and with luck Duncan wouldn't miss it in any sort of hurry. He replaced the wallet lighter by two hundred notes and shot one last glance towards Duncan.

The man was laying awkwardly. He'd be stiff as a board in the morning but Jason didn't dare risk rousing him in an attempt to make him more comfortable. Looking around him, he spied on the matching sofa a heavy blanket that looked a bit like a tapestry. Stiff Duncan might be, and pissed off too when he found out about the missing readies, but Jason decided he wouldn't let him be cold as well. He gently covered the slumbering man before making good his escape.

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie dropped the file he'd been trying to read, stretched, yawned and rubbed at eyes which were starting to stream. He was so bloody tired but he knew that was not the only reason for his appalling behaviour to everyone around him.

He was always twitchy when Ray went undercover. They were so attuned as partners that Bodie felt like a fish out of water working on his own, and he worried for Doyle's safely constantly.

The worry was rarely warranted. Doyle's niche was undercover work and the results he produced were seldom rivaled. Nevertheless, Bodies protective streak for his ragamuffin partner still seemed to go into overdrive when they were parted in this way. He felt Doyle's loss keenly when the new persona took over. He grimly remembered the visit to Saville Row some weeks before, when he had helped Doyle select the wares that would help him become the new Ray Duncan. As soon as he was adorned in the first of the suits, a cool and aloof stranger stared back and Ray Doyle was effectively gone.

Strictly speaking, Ray had not needed to go in quite so deep, but nerves on both sides had dictated the situation. Both Cowley and Bodie knew how much Doyle hated this type of case and that the only way he could really bear it was to switch off as much of himself as he could.

Mossman and his henchmen were cautious and careful. Whiter than white on the outside, Derek Mossman ran a successful marketing company which provided models and advertising shoots for fashion magazines and mail order catalogues. If the company accounts were to be believed, it was a successful and lucrative business. The accounts however, were bogus and the company a front for Mossman's darker side, the production of sexually violent pornography.

Like most men, Bodie was not averse to a bit of porn on occasion. There was little that he hadn't seen in his life at one time or another, but it was not something he especially needed or craved. His sex life was satisfactory enough for him. He much preferred to be doing it than watching someone else doing it. If he found himself at a loose end with no one to share his bed on a cold night, his own right hand and a few favourite fantasies soon kept him company.

The footage that those on the Mossman case had had to sit through had been disturbing. Bodie was not naive. He knew there were foreign films depicting rape and torture which existed, and it was both the directors and actors jobs to make the films convincing. A decent actor that could pull all that off could be paid handsomely. There was no acting going on in these films however; everything about them was believed to be genuine. As far as CI5 had ascertained, once their usefulness expired, the unfortunate actors often ended up dead.

The vice squad had been sitting on some of Mossman's material for more than a year, seemingly having no leads or any real fucking idea in Bodie's opinion as to what to do with it.

A river death and a missing persons report had drawn together the threads of what had started to look like a crime.

It had all come down to chance.

The body, which was later discovered to have been shot at before its dunking, might never have been found had it drifted out to more open waters. Nobody in the Met particularly wanted to take responsibility for it. River deaths were rarely easy cases to crack and never pleasant. The body hadn’t spent long in the waters surrounding the Isle of Dogs and tests revealed huge amounts of narcotics in its system.

This was enough cause for the case and the corpse, to be passed onto the drugs squad. A bloke in the drugs squad had a mate in the vice squad. That same rather sleazy bloke in the vice squad had shown the bloke in the drugs squad one of the Mossman tapes. The bloke from the drugs squad was the only one who recognised the shoulder tattoo on the body as being the same as one he had seen in a filthy film a bloke in the vice squad had shown him. When missing person’s reports had been re-trawled, it was the tattoo that identified poor Toby Hensham’s soul as the previous inhabitant of the corpse.

Toby was a would-be Bohemian who had rather foolishly gone to seek his own fortune, rather than rely on the one his loving parents had thoughtfully provided for him.

It would have remained a police matter were it not for the fact that his devoted mother, Selena Hensham was the PA to the minister. It was not a job she really needed, being of old money and having a doting husband big in banking, but it did give her something to do and made her feel important.

The minister took Toby's death and Selena's subsequent breakdown personally and quickly made the case George Cowley's problem. Cowley had made the undercover investigation Doyle's problem and consequently, being without his partner was now Bodie's problem.

All just a matter of fucking chance.

Doyle's progress on the case had been undeniably excellent. CI5 had gained enough data from his wired meetings and covert photography to secure convictions on Mossman and several of his associates against the Obscene Publications Act. Cowley believed however, that there was plenty more to be had that could put a lot of people away for a very long time. There was an unknown backer whose acquaintance Doyle was due to make in two days time. If both sides were satisfied, a deal would be done. Then the film makers could be also be had for publication and gain as well as production of obscene materials. The judge would throw away the key.

Too tired to read more, Bodie was almost pleased when Murphy stuck his head around the door.

"Pint, Bodie?"

"Sorry mate, I'm the worst sort of company."

"Tell me something the whole squad doesn't know! Come on, I'm buyin' if you’re comin."

Bodie considered his options. There was little more work he could do. If he went home he would only fret and worry and gnash his teeth. If he went with Murphy, he could fret and worry and gnash his teeth at Murph and get bought beer.

He flicked off the lamp and meekly accompanied Murphy to the pub.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle eventually began to surface from his slumber. Something slightly itchy was irritating his chin enough to finally rouse him.

Even before his bleary eyes were able to focus properly, he shrugged his arm from the confines of the heavy covering adorning him to look at his watch. The accusing face informed him it was eleven thirty a.m. Under no circumstances could that be considered good news.

With Herculean effort, he finally escaped the throw which smothered him and attempted to assess his situation. He was still on the sofa, in the hotel room hired by Ray Duncan. He had a muggy head which was aching moderately but not unbearably, and he had the sour taste of stale drink in his mouth. He had been drinking with someone but not to excess, and they had obviously left him there to sleep it off.

His conscience was pricking him and he knew that he wasn't far from remembering the events of the previous night. Whether remembering would turn out to be good or bad, he nevertheless shut his eyes in resignation and probed his memory.

Jason Walsh had been here. He’d been getting quite clingy with Doyle lately. Not obsessively so but enough to get himself noticed and enough to get himself over the threshold.

Doyle couldn't really remember learning much from the boy. He certainly didn't remember drinking enough to warrant his early departure from the party. He'd let Jason fix the drinks. Shit. He found the glasses they had used on the coffee table, but sniffing them proved nothing to him much as he expected.

Sighing, he walked over to inspect the damage done to his finances due to his own stupidity. The wallet was still there containing a somewhat unbelievable eight hundred.

So Jason was an honourable whore. Who would have thought it?

Doyle neither blamed nor castigated the boy’s ingenuity. It was his own sloppiness that would give Cowley cause to rip his balls off. The notes were marked of course, but were likely long gone. Cowley would kill him and Bodie would laugh his head off.

Bodie! With sudden sickening clarity, Doyle remembered Bodie's name coming up in the last night’s conversation. Jesus, what the hell had he said to Walsh?

He suddenly remembered the voice recorder. Of course, it would all be on the voice recorder. In a moment that almost stopped his heart, it struck him that Jason may have found the device and made off with that as well. To his relief, it was still in its hiding place beneath the phone stand, its red light winking at him mockingly.

The tape in the little machine had recorded right to its end before rewinding itself ready for playback. With a sense of trepidation, Doyle pressed the play button and sat down with his head in his hands waiting to relive the sounds of the previous night.

Half an hour later, a mortified Doyle gazed unseeingly ahead. He remembered Jason boasting of his own small part in Mossman's operation and the private parties that were being held. He even fancied he heard the soft plink as his drink was spiked, though he immediately recognised the moment the drug started to affect him when he heard the nuances in his own voice begin to change.

Christ, the things he had said about Bodie! Where the hell had that come from? He rarely admitted even to himself how he felt about his partner. He preferred to keep that side of himself firmly hidden away in darkened rooms, in the late hours of lonely nights. How on earth he had brought himself to shout about his devotion to Jason of all people he couldn't fathom. Whatever stuff the little bastard had slipped him must have been bloody good.

One thing was certain, this tape could never see the light of day. That, Doyle realised sickeningly put him even deeper in the mire. He didn't think the hotels interior was currently under surveillance. The squad was working to full capacity. Few could be spared to keep tabs on Doyle's op whilst it was still at this relatively safe stage. That didn't mean for a moment that he wasn't being watched however. There was no way that he could keep Jason's visit a secret from Cowley.

Cowley! If Doyle didn't get his act together, he would be late for his daily check in with the controller. This was likely to ring alarm bells which he could ill afford.

Most days, Doyle also managed to speak with Bodie somehow or other. It wasn't particularly necessary, but it gave him a tenuous link to his own personality which he tended to hide away from whilst playing Duncan. It was also a comfort to him to know that Bodie had survived another day, and his partner’s gentle humour was always a light note in the dark overtures of a depressing case.

Doyle cursed himself for the hours he'd already lost from the day. He'd intended to read and re read all the case notes whilst mentally preparing himself for the following days meeting. Few could be better prepared than Doyle was already, but he always wanted contemplative time to himself before such undertakings. Suffering a hangover was certainly not part of his planning.

At one o'clock, from his room phone, Doyle called his boss. Though the line was verified secure, Doyle normally preferred meetings in person. That morning however, the results of the night before were written plainly all over Doyle's face. A sight he would rather Cowley did not get to see.

Cowley was in his office with Bodie finalising the following day’s details when Doyle's call came through. He switched the call to the loud speaker so that Bodie could listen in.

"Ah, 4~5, anything new to report?"

"Yes, Sir, I had a late night visit from Jason Walsh."

"A social call?"

"That's what he seemed to want to make it look like. I rather think the idea was to recruit me as a member of Mossman's exclusive little band of partygoers. Apparently, there are private gatherings going on where people can pay a fee to indulge in rape."

"Details, 4~5, where are these events being held, how frequently and did you get names of any participants?"

"No, Sir, sorry Sir. Walsh was nervy and not really to inclined to hang around once he had sounded me out."

The lie almost stuck in Doyle's throat. He knew that if the truth of it ever came to light, it might well cost him his career.

"Ah well, you did your best I suppose. It can't be helped now, but this is an avenue which must be explored once tomorrow's dealings are over."

Unreasonably, Doyle took Cowley's resigned reply as a slur, but the controller had seemed to swallow the untruth well enough. With a few more final instructions, the call was terminated.

Doyle sank back into the plump sofa feeling thoroughly depressed. He felt he'd failed on this job even before its natural conclusion. True, the case had mentally drained him and he felt distinctly below par, but that was no excuse for poor work and well he knew it.

Despite his aversion to the case itself, he couldn't help but like Jason. The boy might be a two-bit prostitute with a mouth like a sewer, but he had a wonderful body and the face of an angel. He was funny, flirty and easy to warm to. More than once Doyle thought what might have been if he himself were ten years younger and not involved in law enforcement.

Being honest with himself however, it was the spirit of the nineteen year old which Doyle most admired. The lad had faced adversity head on and traded all he had to survive. He had also it seemed, convinced the insipid Mossman that he was worthy of his own survival.

The ringing phone roused him from his thoughts.

Not sure who it might be, he answered gingerly and a small thrill ran through him when the caller turned out to be Bodie.

"Hello, Sunshine! Is it true I hear you're trading me in for a younger model then?"

"Eh?"

"That fuckin' little faggot Jason. Tellin' you mate he's got the hot's for you. Before I know it he's gonna be gettin' his sharpened claws into you and getting you to whisk him off to San Tropez to live the life of the young and beautiful. Thus leaving me to the mercies of a miserable life watching Anson light yet another cigar and McCabe scratching his arse."

"Oh cut it out, Bodie, if I were to head for sunnier climes, it would just leave the womenfolk of Londonium just that little bit more accessible to you as well you know. You're only jealous that I could still pull a nineteen year old should that be my fancy. If my fancy was getting a dose of the pox of course."

"Yeah, yeah. You okay, Ray? Nasty this case. Don't know what it is but I seem to have one of your 'feelings' about it that it's not going to go quite the way we wannit to."

"Yeah, I'm not feelin' too happy about it meself, but so far, all's on course. Did I tell you I'm offing Duncan after this one? Nasty smell hanging about him now. Lookin' forward to gettin' back out. Take it you're up for a pint real soon?"

"With bells on, Sunshine, only a day to go. And, Ray, take care tomorrow, as I said, just a feeling."

"Always, mate, you do your job and I'll do mine. And if I fuck it up, look me up sometime in San Tropez!"

"Will do, you can buy me a drink with a brolly in it."

"You're on. Oh and Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

"Give her one from me!"

"Affirmative, 4~5, 3~7 out."

The banter in their conversation was as necessary as the oxygen needed to say it, but Doyle still felt deflated when the call was ended.

He could have Jason Walsh in a heartbeat if that's what he wanted, with money never even needing to be discussed. If he was honest with himself however, it was Bodie he wanted. Bodie he had always wanted. Bodie who knew nothing of the bisexuality he had so carefully hidden over the years. Bodie who loved and was so loved in return by women. Bodie who would beat him into senselessness should he ever learn of Doyle's current thoughts.

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie couldn't really apply himself to anything.

All in all it had been a reasonable, if gruelling week. Two operations had come to their conclusions. Arrests had been made and sources of drugs and guns plugged. Bodie had even written and submitted his reports on time.

The next big one, Doyle's case, was looming and something about it was unnerving Bodie.

It was all straightforward enough. Ray Duncan was to meet with Derek Mossman and his financial associates in a prearranged conference room within the hotel in which he was currently staying. There, Duncan could, if he wished, watch more samples of Mossman's celluloid wares. Prices could be then be decided between Mossman's production company and Duncan's distribution one.

The room would be bugged several hours before the meeting was due to take place. No less than six A squad agents would be placed inside and outside the hotel. Nobody was quite sure how many would be in Mossman's entourage and Cowley wasn't taking any chances with either his operative or the evidence he wished to capture.

Deciding to try and make an early night of it, Bodie flicked through Mossman's file for a final time.

On the first page was the profile picture and Bodie studied it with dislike. Mossman was certainly no oil painting. Looking at the greasy looking hair and piggy eyes, Bodie would be surprised if any youngsters had gone to work for him through choice. Doyle seemed to think this Jason character was a willing participant however. Not having met Jason Walsh, Bodie didn't have an opinion on that just yet. He did have an opinion on Jason however, and it wasn't particularly favourable. The boy had been sniffing round Doyle like a fly round shit and Bodie wasn't best pleased about it.

Sighing he reminded himself about the early night. He had the feeling tomorrow could be a very long day.

~~~oOo~~~

The next morning, Doyle woke at six. He was alert, keyed up and ready.

The meeting had been arranged for two in the afternoon. In an hour or two, technicians would be bugging the conference room. Shortly after, CI5 backup would be taking their places. Something told Doyle however, that even at this early hour he wasn't quite alone. He moved to the window and pulled a curtain aside to look out over the car park. Sure enough, there was Bodie's familiar Capri parked facing his window. Smiling, Doyle raised a hand in greeting and was rewarded by a single flash from Bodie's headlights.

Heartened by the silent support, Doyle went about the morning routine he had kept up for the last fortnight. He showered, then dressed before checking and holstering his gun. When he returned to the suite, he would he supposed, have to collect his gear together. His hotel stay was nearly over and for that he was eternally grateful.

He made his way downstairs and checked at reception for messages of which there were none. He leisurely took himself off for breakfast. He rarely ate so early, but morning coffee enabled him to cast an eyeball over the rest of the hotels patronage.

Doyle was strolling back from the eatery when he heard a sharp hissing noise to his left. Fully expecting to see another agent, he casually turned his head towards the noise. There was nobody there. Shrugging, Doyle made to carry on when the hissing came again. This time when he turned, he looked straight into the eyes of Jason Walsh.

Jason emerged from his hiding place, but it was not the same Jason that Doyle knew. This Jason looked scared to death. Glancing around him quickly, Doyle hurried over to the boy.

"Jay? What are you doing here?"

Closer, Doyle could see the lads face was tearstained. His previous easy confidence was gone and what was left was a tense, frightened young man in obvious distress.

"Jay, what the hell's the matter, has Mossman done something to you?"

"Not here, Mr. Duncan, I can't be seen here, please come with me, just for a minute?"

"Come up to my suite."

"No! I can't be seen here, I shouldn't even be here, just give me a minute and I'll be gone, I promise. Come with me please!"

With that, Walsh pushed the bar of a service door and was gone. Doyle had little choice but to go after him. He was after all armed, and Bodie was just around the corner. He couldn't afford to lose Jason - this might be a significant development in the case. Doyle careered down a small corridor towards daylight. At the end of the hall on the other side of another push bar door, Jason was bent over panting heavily. Doyle came to a stop and laid a hand on the young man’s shaking back.

"Jay?"

Jason stood slowly.

Before someone belted Doyle hard across the base of his neck, the last thing he heard was Jason saying,

"Sorry, Mr. Duncan."

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie had made it his personal mission to oversee everyone else in their work. In fact if nothing else, he was making rather a nuisance of himself. He insisted on checking and rechecking all of the surveillance equipment. He admonished his fellow agents for their tardiness, even though they were all ready to be in position far quicker than they needed to be.

Murphy, recognising his stress, finally took him to one side in an effort to calm him down.

"Come on, mate, it's just a simple take down. Doyle's been doin' his homework for weeks on this one, there isn't really that much that can go wrong is there?"

"Please don't quote famous last words at me, Murph, I don't think I could stand it."

"Sorry, mate. You spoken to Ray today?"

"No. I saw him earlier and he looked okay, so I'm leaving him to do that meditation crap or whatever it is he gets up to."

Grinning, Murphy silently acknowledged Ray Doyle's eccentricities.

He'd seen both of these partners so worked up on behalf of each other in the past that he frequently thanked God for his solo status. That day however, he was being partnered by a new recruit, a bright lad called Davey Thompson. Many of the old school CI5 agents thought themselves too grand and aloof to be landed with the rookies, but Murphy never minded. He might after all depend on the lad for his life one day. Just as long as Cowley saw fit to not keep it as a permanent arrangement. Partnerships looked just a little bit _too_ emotional for him to fancy dealing with.

By midday, all of CI5's preparations were complete. The innocuous meeting room was laid out as per the customers instructions with refreshments, stationery and televisual equipment in place. Bodie and Jax were to be stationed near the only door in or out of the conference room. Lucas and McCabe were to remain in the reception area and Murphy and Thompson would be guarding the front and rear of the hotel.

At twelve thirty, Bodie could wait no longer and tried to raise Doyle on the R/T. He frowned when he got no reply. At reception, he attempted to put a call through to Doyle's room direct, with the same outcome.

Within a minute, Bodie had summoned both Murphy and the hotel manager. Within a further two minutes, the three men were stood in Ray Duncan's empty room. Within an hour, six CI5 A squad agents had established that Ray Doyle was no longer anywhere on the premises.

Two o'clock came and went. Nobody associated with Derek Mossman ever appeared.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle struggled to consciousness.

His eyes forced themselves open causing a wave of nausea to wash over him. He tried to steady himself, waiting for the sickness to pass before starting to evaluate his situation. He had been moved, that much was obvious. He was in some sort of antiquated office not dissimilar to Cowley's own. The room had a musty, unused feel about it and had obviously been designed in a much earlier era than the hotel he had recently inhabited.

He had a go at sitting up. Immediately his shoulder muscles screamed at him and he realised with dismay that he his hands were efficiently secured behind his back. He tried to move his feet and almost let out a yell when his ankles flared with pain. So he was hobbled as well. Terrific.

Once again fighting the nausea, he raised his upper body and looked down at himself. Two things became immediately apparent. As he had guessed, his feet were secured, but not with rope. Bloody hell, these were fucking shackles! The second inconvenience was that apart from the briefs he had put on at seven that morning, he was completely naked.

He thought furiously even though it set up a dull throbbing in his head.

'Try to assess the pros and cons.' he thought to himself. Admittedly there weren't that many pros.

He was in an unknown location, unarmed, and undressed. He had a possible head injury and it was reasonable to assume that he had little to hand in the way of defending himself. He was immobilised by things that looked like they belonged in some sort of seventeenth century dungeon. And looking at them, though he really wished he hadn't, he suddenly recalled the profession of his captors. Oh dear God in Heaven, no wonder they had such things as shackles!

So what were the pros then? Well he was alive. And he seemed to be thinking reasonably clearly.

Not an awful lot to shout about when all was said and done.

~~~oOo~~~

Though he tried hard to hide it, Bodie was frantic.

Cowley had arrived at the hotel and though he valued the support, Bodie couldn't really see what difference it could make. The hotel was definitely clear. There wasn't a single room that hadn't been checked at least once much to the surprise and chagrin of a lot of guests.

A rudimentary camera system overlooked the reception area and the weeks recordings from it had been thoroughly scrutinised. Bodie sadly watched the scratchy shots from the morning once more. He saw the stilting frames of Doyle approaching the check-in desk, no doubt to ask for messages. He’d left empty handed, so no one had tried to contact him with an instruction for a change to the day’s plans. On the screen, Doyle turned. The quality of the footage was awful but Bodie would have recognised his partners stance anywhere. The thought that this might be the last time he ever saw Doyle in motion was starting to eat at him from inside.

Bodie noticed that other agents were starting to avoid him and his arctic mood. He didn't blame them. None of this was their fault, the blame lay solely with himself. He had been there God dammit, and someone had snatched his partner from right under his nose.

Cowley approached Bodie recognising the despondency in his young agent.

"Right, laddie, your report once again, just so it's clear in my mind. Everything you remember from this morning."

"Well as you know, Sir, there's little to tell. I came and parked up in the car park, where my car still is now, at a little after six."

"Why so early? Agents weren't scheduled to arrive until eight."

"I didn't sleep well, Sir, had a bad feeling about this op. It wasn't doing me any good being at home so I came here. I made visual contact with 4~5, oversaw the preparations and then tried to make contact with Doyle at twelve thirty."

"So we're working on the assumption that Doyle's disappearance is definitely related to this case?"

"Almost certainly, Sir."

"On what basis?"

"On the basis that nobody turned up for the two o'clock meet. Mossman stood to make a lot of money out of the deal."

“So we're assuming that Doyle's cover has been blown, albeit we don't know when. Any idea of where any leaks might have sprung, 3~7?"

"None, Sir. Could have come from anywhere at any time, not just over the last two weeks. Doyle's been in solitary confinement more or less since he's been here. Virtually the only contact made with him has been through covert meetings and calls to his room. The line to which which the tech guys are still verifying as sound."

"And you didn't see anyone this morning who was acting suspiciously in any way?"

"No, Sir."

Bodie understood the questioning. Qualified agent he might be, trained to spot anything out of the ordinary even if it was the sky looking a little bit too blue, but they had nothing to go on, nothing. It seemed all they could do was wait.

Bodie's mind flashed back to the some of the photographs which had been connected to Mossman's pornography racket. Toby Hensham, undergraduate, the first reported missing person identified. Richie Slydell, reported missing by his boss on the market stall he sometimes worked, who swore if the little bastard ever _did_ turn up, he better bring the money he owed. Kerry Dridge, runaway, the only female to have been identified in the films. When she had been dredged up, there were no more obvious signs of death than the ones that had been inflicted on her in the film in which she had appeared.

All of them dead. More dead if you could link the unidentified victims connected to the case. They had outlived their usefulness. Did Doyle have any usefulness? Was he dead already?

All they could do was wait. Though how long they would have to wait and quite what they were waiting for, Bodie didn't know.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle had company.

Two men entered the room walking purposefully towards him.

Two armed men.

His brain functioning a little better, he tried to take in as much information in about them as he was able.

They were both dressed in dark clothing, casually rather than formally almost to the point of scruffiness. Neither of them were trying to conceal their faces, in fact one of them was slightly familiar to him. He caught glimpses of their weapons. The slightly taller of the two carried a Colt P45 and his heavier set companion a nine millimetre Heckler and Koch. They handled the guns competently enough, even if they lacked a little finesse.

Doyle remained perfectly still. Mr. Colt nudged him in the side with his booted foot. Sensing the resistance in the body, he realised that Doyle was back in the land of the living.

"Ah you're awake then, Gorgeous, time to go and meet the boss."

Mr. Heckler sniggered and Doyle realised that it was only recently that he had seen the man before. There was something slightly different about him however, what was it?

"Looks a bit chilly in that get-up don’t he!" Colt said amused.

"Yeah and he's normally such a snappy dresser too!" replied Heckler with glee.

It was the ‘tache. Every time Doyle had seen Heckler over the last two weeks he had been sporting a moustache, maybe stuck on, more probably real and since shaven off. Either way, he had been nondescript enough for Doyle to pay much attention to.

Heckler had been in the restaurant every morning. He'd taken coffee, flicked through his newspaper (The Daily Mail), and then left to start his working day. He had been a daily regular there, but then so had a lot of other people. It was a business hotel catering for all budgets and requirements. Close enough to central London for white collar workers to commute to the firms they were doing trade with. Economical enough for contractors to make use of when away from home. Heckler had dressed and behaved as the latter, possibly a civil engineer or a company foreman. He had spoken little except to politely address the waitresses. He had nodded to Doyle in the way regular travellers would when vaguely recognising someone they saw the day before. Apart from the breakfast acquaintances, Doyle had seen nothing of the man. He had obviously been planted there to establish the pattern of Doyle's routine. So that Jason Walsh would know when and where to find him.

It was safe to assume that his cover had been blown. That they'd known who he was all along. Even with eyeballs on him, he had played the part of Duncan around the clock. They had been given nothing to suspect that Duncan was anything more than a hardheaded businessman out to make as much money as he could regardless of any human cost.

"Oi, Beautiful!" exclaimed Colt more abruptly this time. "Come on, we said it's time to go!"

"Remember what the boss said Dave, don't put any marks on 'im." cautioned Heckler.

"Nah, plenty of time for that later I 'spose." replied Colt cheerfully.

Doyle decided that there was little future in laying there. Some sort of showdown seemed inevitable and he wasn't going to learn much from the hired help.

He had few illusions that CI5 had any sort of trace on him. If Bodie had remained where Doyle had seen him, he would have had no way of witnessing Doyle's abduction. Most agents knew to leave Doyle to his own devices when he was undercover. If nobody had tried to contact him, it might well be several hours before he was even missed.

To all intents and purposes, Doyle was on his own.

He glaringly acknowledged his consciousness to the two men and satisfied, they hauled him to his feet.

Between them they frog marched him off. During their journey Doyle tried to take in features of the house they were in. It was simply enormous. Maybe it was another hotel. If that was the case however, he saw no other guests or staff.

There was in fact a general air of disrepair to the place and most of it had an un-lived in feel about it. By contrast however, he got odd glimpses of rooms and corridors that seemed surprisingly plush and had been smartly redecorated.

Perhaps it was some sort of business centre which hired out suites to companies, although once again he saw no office staff to confirm that. Not that a nearly naked man being marched through a house wouldn't have raised a little suspicion had they seen anyone else.

Doyle's speculations were of little help however, as he still recognised nothing and had no idea where he was.

The walk to their destination seemed interminably long which was unsurprising as one of the party was barefoot and shackled, but finally they arrived at a large wooden door.

"Time to meet your host." taunted Colt.

Heckler seemed to find this inexplicably funny and stifled laughter before knocking on the heavy door.

It opened before them to yet another office setting. At the far end of the room was a long desk behind which three figures sat waiting. On the left, looking pale and pensive, was Jason Walsh. On the right was the odious Mossman, but it was the sight of the figure they flanked that caused Doyle to start in surprise however. Staring in astonishment, Doyle looked straight into the dark eyes of Dieter Kroll.

~~~oOo~~~

Back at CI5 HQ, the Mossman case had swiftly taken a back seat to Doyle's disappearance.

Agents who had been toiling on their own cases for weeks, suddenly made themselves readily available in the search for one of their own.

Cowley had immediately dispatched Murphy and Thompson to Mossman's last known business premises. They had recently called in to report the offices abandoned, devoid of people or equipment. A postal address for Mossman also led to a dead end.

Cowley and Bodie were brainstorming.

"So, Bodie. We know there are unknown names, financial backers, hired thugs and possibly other distributors. So let’s concentrate on the names and faces that we do know about. What have we got so far on the group as we know it?"

"Okay, Sir. At the top of the tree we have Derek Mossman, probably an alias. The only intel we have on him is from his current company information, which as we know is a cover for his porn racket. No further history for anyone with that name."

"Yes, alright, who next?"

"Marcus Delaney, snapper. Son of an Irish builder."

"And we have an interest in him because?"

"He's been vaguely monitored for a number of years. He originally worked as a photographic surveyor in the family business in County Antrim, but got loosely connected with an IRA faction in 1971. The group got busted and political arrests were made. He was in the clear, but the life wasn't for him and it spooked him enough to get out of Ireland.

He came to London where he studied photography and film making. He never set up his own business as such, but was good enough to hire himself out freelance to anyone that would pay him. Advertising through the small ads, he got plenty of work doing tits and bum shoots which is probably how he eventually made acquaintance with Mossman. He'd done nothing illegal until this association as Mossman's cameraman. He was identified from pictures from the vice squads investigation which came to a halt when they passed the case onto CI5."

"Good, good, who next"?

"Phillip Laker, producer. He performs tasks such as sound engineering, transferring the recorded film onto video tapes, that sort of thing."

"And we know about him ... ?"

"Ex public schoolboy, Sir. Determined and bullish character by all accounts. Didn't like the legal course his parents paid for him to do and demanded that he be transferred to a polytechnic to do media studies instead. Excessive drug user, been up in front of a judge on more than one occasion in breach of The Misuse of Drugs Act. Seems to have bought himself out of the nick up 'till now. Same vice squad op identified him as well."

"Anyone else?"

"One more name, Sir, Jason Walsh, prostitute. Numerous convictions for soliciting, drug use and thievery. Done short spells inside without much harm coming to him. Looks like he was picked up by Mossman the same way as all the other kids, but this one he kept with him. Contact of Doyle's who seems to think Walsh is harmless enough."

"And nothing or no one else to go on?"

"No Sir, that's all we have."

Lost in their own thoughts for a minute, both men were suddenly quiet.

~~~oOo~~~

Trying to keep his surprise to a minimum, Doyle tilted his head back in a defiant gesture.

Seemingly unimpressed, Kroll started to speak.

"Mr. Duncan! Or should I say, Mr. Doyle? You will of course have realised that we discovered a while ago who you were. The fact that you know who we are however, is of some inconvenience to us. This inconvenience nevertheless will soon be rectified. In fact your presence here has actually become rather fortuitous for us. I'd rather let Mr. Mossman explain."

Doyle was irritated by the perfect English spouted at him. He had never quite forgotten his rage at discovering that Kroll's crimes had been excused by his 'diplomatic-bloody-immunity' status in the times that he had used the Chinese community to peddle his wares of chemical destruction.

Doyle indeed wondered whether or not the diplomatic status still stood, though it hardly mattered now. The last time they had made acquaintance, Bodie had a fucking Uzi trained on him and he, albeit eventually, surrendered like a baby.

Kroll, it seemed, had said all he had to say and handed the reins over to a near slavering Mossman. The man in question had seemed desperate to speak, but in deference to his obvious leader, had kept quiet.

Seeming to lose interest in the proceedings, Kroll waved control over to Mossman before leaving the room.

Mossman was unsuccessfully trying to damp down his smug excitement.

"I'm sorry your organisation has put itself to so much trouble in trying to find me, Mr. Doyle. If it's any consolation, numerous agencies failed to pin me down me when I was known as Edwin Rodwell or Damien Ross either. No matter, you now have my full and undivided attention.

As Mr. Kroll explained to you, your presence among us is very much welcomed. So much so we decided to throw a little party with you as guest of honour! Attendance, for you at least, is mandatory.

Jay! Our guest is looking somewhat overdressed and I want to view the goods. The cuffs of course might cause a bit of a problem, so you might be needing this."

The sudden appearance of a large, serrated knife and the change in Mossman's voice from leering to menacing caused a shudder of unease to run through Doyle.

Jason also looked a little uncertain but still approached Doyle with the knife readily enough. Whilst facing away from Mossman he faintly whispered,

"Stand very still."

In no position to argue, Doyle did as he was told. Very gently, Jason inserted the tip of the knife behind the elastic of Doyle's briefs. With a sharp tug he ripped the blade through the material. He went to Doyle's other side and repeated the process. The now useless bits of fabric fell away.

Mossman stood up clasping his hands together. Slowly, he appraised Doyle from head to foot.

"Very good, turn him round."

In a macabre parody a waltz, Jason shuffled Doyle around so that he was facing away from the desk. Trembling slightly, Doyle felt Mossman's eyes boring into him.

"Right, bend him over."

A bolt of horror shuddered through Doyle and he went rigid. Recognising this, Jason whispered to him again.

"Just do as he says, you really don't want him to force you."

For some reason, Doyle readily believed Jason and allowed himself to be bent double for Mossman's inspection. After what seemed like an eternity he was allowed back up and turned once again. Though the room was not particularly warm, he felt hot beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His mind was racing with thoughts of escape but he knew that his imminent problem were the clunky ankle cuffs which would likely trip him up even if he did come up with some master plan. All he could do was show insolence in the face of adversity. Once again he tilted his chin back concentrating on keeping his face blank as if bored. Mossman seemed oblivious to this streak of arrogance, still eyeing his prize enthusiastically.

"Well, Mr. Doyle, I must admit you're a little older than our usual subjects. That's of little matter to be honest.

I get the distinct impression that you don't really want to be here do you? Get the idea that you might get a little bit protective of your virtue maybe? A little feisty perhaps? Imagine that you would fight to the death rather than become a plaything for someone who intends to take you and take you hard? Nice imagination, Mr. Doyle, but sadly for you, you don't get an awful lot of choice in the matter.

We have people chomping on their bits for someone just like you. Someone who thinks he is unbreakable. Someone who can't imagine being tamed. Being taken. Again and again. But be taken you will be, Mr. Doyle. Escape is highly unlikely. Rescue even more so, so I suggest you just relax and try to enjoy yourself. After all everybody else will be doing so and this may well be the last chance for enjoyment that you'll get."

Feeling indescribably relieved that Mossman had not attempted to touch him, Doyle sensed that the interview was coming to an end. He was ashamed when a suddenly barked instruction caused him to visibly flinch.

"You!" Mossman bellowed at Heckler and Colt.

"At least one of you remains with him at all times. Even when he is asleep. You are only to touch him to restrain him or keep him in line as you have been briefed. Remember, I don't want a mark being put on him. Should you need to control him, you use this and only this. No excessive use for your own amusement under any circumstances. You must allow Jay to do his work and you will neither hinder him nor pass unnecessary comment. I want him ready on time tomorrow, no excuses, no foul ups."

Unable to conceal his curiosity, Doyle's eyes flickered over towards the object being handed over to the two thugs.

"Ah, I see you showing an interest in my little machine, Mr. Doyle." purred Mossman.

"Praps he 'aint see a cattle prod before!" cackled Colt.

"Enough!" admonished Mossman before continuing.

“I apologise for my rather poorly educated employee, Mr. Doyle. Though in his defence, he is not entirely wrong. The device is actually called a picana. This particular one comes all the way from South America but I very much doubt it has ever been in the same vicinity as any cattle. However the principle of its use is similar. The main difference, is that it delivers a high current but low voltage shock to its recipient. This means, that whilst my men are able control you as often as they deem necessary, they will not put a single mark on your rather attractive skin."

Mossman stroked the device lovingly.

"Beautiful isn't it, and highly effective with it. I really am rather sorry to have to resort to such measures as I'm sure you will understand, Mr. Doyle, but it is my little insurance policy against any ideas you may have or either misbehaviour or escape."

Doyle's resolve was starting to crumble. This was not the first time he had seen this awful thing. One of the worst films the team had witnessed showed scenes of electric shocks being applied to a young boy. For part of the scene some sort of rubber ball had been inserted into his mouth which stifled his cries and moans. It was later removed so that he could 'beg for mercy.' Upon its removal, the youth had screamed his lungs out. A cutaway shot showed a hand on a dial increasing the voltage. The film had ended with a close up shot of the picana being applied to the glans of the young man’s penis.

The resulting shriek was cut to silence as the screen went black.

~~~oOo~~~

Cowley was growing more concerned. The first twenty four hours of any kidnap were crucial and the fact that no contact had been made and no demands put forward were starting to make things look very dark for his missing agent. Very dark indeed.

Bodie once again killed the overhead lights in the room and reached forward to press down the switch on the large video cassette player. The familiar music started over the few titles that had been applied. The name of the film and the actor were all that appeared, in this case 'Devoted Denny'. The actor’s names had been falsified as this lad had later been identified as Toby Hensham. There were no credits for the film makers nor any production company, studio name or location. Bodie and Cowley knew all this already but it was the location that particularly interested them.

In all the films that had been obtained, only three different sets had been used. One was a nondescript bedroom setting that could have been in any room, in any house, anywhere. The second was some sort of cellar effectively dressed as a dungeon. That set had been carefully scrutinised, but once again there was nothing to suggest where the place might actually be. The third set was more interesting. It was a gymnasium, the sort that might be found in a school or a borstal. The scenes suggested that the building might be large and old. The gym equipment was aged, but at some time had been built for purpose rather than being theatrical stage dressing.

On the screen, young Toby Hensham had been secured between two climbing ropes. Another actor whose face was completely covered by a mask was whipping his buttocks with a cane. Toby had been blindfolded and was unaware when the next strike would occur.

As usual, the images and sounds from the film made for uncomfortable viewing. It was difficult to watch with objectivity rather than emotion, especially for Bodie who was constantly reminding himself that Ray was in the hands of these bastards. Ray, who, it seemed, they were no nearer finding.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle was escorted to an antiquated washroom. It had obviously been some sort of communal area as there were several rows of showers on one side. On the other was a block of toilet cubicles and a series of urinals. Large, old radiators flanked the walls gathering dust. The whole place was done out in a ghostly green paint which was flaking with age.

Jason selected a shower stall and ushered Doyle inside before stripping off himself. Heckler had carried the picana and Colt the large suitcase which accompanied it. He opened the case to reveal some cables and a car battery. The two thugs busied themselves with their device. Jason ignored them and from somewhere produced a threadbare flannel and a bar of carbolic soap. He switched on a jet of water which served to drown out the sound of his voice from the others.

"Do as I say and don't do anything to provoke 'em. They won't hurt you unless they 'ave to and they know I'll tell Mossman if they do. If you do ask for it, that's your own lookout." muttered Jason.

"Jay, you gotta help me get out of this." implored Doyle.

"And don't fuckin' talk to me either, you're a lying bastard, Mr. fuckin' CI5 man!"

"Jay! Listen to me you bloody idiot, Mossman's going down whatever happens to me, we've been after him for months."

"Why the fuck should I listen to a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"Because, if he goes down, you'll be going right down with him and it won't be some short stretch in a young offenders like you been doin' up to now."

"How the fuck would you know what I been doin'?"

"Oh don't be thick, Jay, CI5 knows all about you. Your name is Jason Walsh and you've done spells inside for shoplifting, pick pocketing and touting for trade. If you go down with Mossman, the judge'll probably see to it that you get locked up with the bastard. And that, son, will be for a very long time."

"I can't help you. Mr. Mossman would kill me if I grassed to help you."

"Well don't do it for me, do it for Toby and Kerry and all the other poor kids Mossman's done away with."

"How can I trust what you even tell me?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Jay! I could have had you pulled yesterday for that two hundred you had off me, but I didn't did I? It's Mossman we want and that bastard Kroll now too. Trust me, you have no idea what you're involved in being tied up with that lot."

Jason was thinking hard, both surprised and scared that Doyle seemed to know so much. Noticing that Heckler and Colt were once again paying him and Doyle attention, he began to vigorously soap Doyle's body. Doyle winced when Jason got to the still shackled wrists and ankles which had started to bleed from the chafing caused by the cuffs. Losing interest in them once again, the heavies returned their attentions back to their box of tricks. Noticing this, Doyle once again urgently appealed to Jason.

"You need to call a number. Ask to speak to Cowley or Bodie or get a message to them. Just let them know where we are. If you help me, you could get out of all this."

For a heart stopping moment, Doyle's memory failed to come up with the number to the red phone in Cowley's office. Mentally calming himself, he let the individual figures form in his mind. He carefully recited them to Jason who miraculously wrote them using soap with his finger on the tiled wall.

"Make sure you get rid of that later." he whispered to Jay nodding towards the number.

"I can't promise I can help you, I can't even get out of 'ere! Mr. Mossman needs me when there's a party going on. I 'ave work I need to do, he'd miss me if I went out and 'e monitors all the phones in 'ere."

"Just fucking try, Jay, for Christ's sake! All you need to do is let them know where we are!"

"They won't know who I am, they'd never believe what I was telling them!"

"Yes they would, Jay, they'll be looking for me right now and will be waiting for some sort of call."

"But they're CI5 for fucks sake! I've heard they're the real heavy mob! Why would they listen to the likes of me?"

"Look, send a message to Mr. Bodie. Tell him I'll buy him a liver sausage sandwich in San Tropez."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything, Jay, but he'll believe who you are. Just let them know where this place is, PLEASE!"

Their hurried conversation came to an abrupt end when Heckler and Colt started watching them again. Rapidly Jason hustled Doyle out of the cubicle and attempted to dry him off with a musty towel. He was then taken to a bedroom which contained cot beds and little else. Between them, Heckler and Colt removed the cuffs on his wrists, allowed Jason to put a towelling robe on him and refastened the cuffs, this time in front of him. His shoulders shouted protests at their prolonged constriction, but after a while the more comfortable position made him feel infinitely better.

"You need to sleep tonight, Mr. Mossman insists on it. He won't have you looking 'alf asleep tomorrow, you need to take these."

Jason held out two small white pills towards Doyle's mouth and he swung his head away from them.

"Boss says you need to take 'em, then you take 'em." grunted Colt.

He held the picana in his hand and waved it perilously close to Doyle's chest. Reluctantly, Doyle looked back to the offered pills and licked them up from Jason's outstretched hand. Jason gave him water before checking his mouth to see that the tablets had been swallowed.

A little while later, Doyle's eyes were having trouble focusing and the room seemed to be spinning around him. Five minutes later he was out cold.

The next morning, Jason was with Dave Fosset (the man Doyle knew as Colt) in front of Mossman receiving his instructions for the day ahead.

"Right, Fosset, get back to Hawkins and Doyle. Then wait for Jay to come and get him. Remember, no foul ups!

Jay! Laker and Delaney are outside directing the cars. Get out there and start being nice to the punters and remember, there's a lot of cash going down on this one. Get it right and they'll be a bonus for you. Cock it up and you don't want to know what will happen. Now get to your places."

Fosset went to re-join his partner and Jay hurried off outside. On the extensive gravel driveway, several large, powerful cars were jostling for position. Laker and Delaney were occupied attempting to direct them into some sort of semblance. Nobody noticed Jason as he pelted behind the greenery down the driveway and out of the gate.

~~~oOo~~~

The call when it came almost shocked Bodie out of his seat. The hotline was being kept clear of any other business barring Doyle's kidnap and Bodie snatched up the receiver viciously.

A flustered voice on the line hurriedly began to speak.

"I've got a message for Mr. Cowley and Mr. Bodie!"

"This is Bo..."

"This is Jay! Jay Walsh. I gotta hurry, if they find out I left the house, they'll kill me. They got your man. He said if I 'elped him, you lot would leave me out of it."

"Yes we can keep you safe ..."

"Your man said he would get you liver sausages in San somewhere …"

"San Tropez, Jay. Look it’s okay I believe who you are, where's Doyle?"

"Oh my God they’re gonna know I've gone, look you just better get here, they’re gonna kill 'im after the party!"

"Jay! Just tell me where you are! Tell me where Doyle is. Don't worry about the others okay, we'll get them, just tell us where!"

"Waverley, old empty place, out in the sticks, Windsor. I gotta go! Look I did all I could alright!"

Bodie desperately wanted to keep the distressed boy talking longer but the line had gone dead.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle had been roughly woken, given water and been allowed to pee.

His arms and shoulders were stiff and aching and his ankles were sore, but he felt no ill effects from the powerful sleepers that had been administered to him.

He was marched through the house in the same fashion as the day before, but this time they took one of the elaborately decorated passageways that he had noticed. The journey ended in a plush reception room with tastefully selected chairs and settees dotted around.

Heckler went ahead to knock upon a large door, whilst Colt remained with Jason and Doyle. Under his breath Jason started to tutor Doyle.

"This is one of the reception rooms for the guests. We'll be going through in a minute. Do exactly as I tell you. Don't try to fight anything or anyone however much you might want to. The more you try and fight, the more they'll like it and the more they'll hurt you. I know some of 'em but not all of 'em. One or two of 'em are okay but I couldn't vouch for the rest. When we get in there, Mr. Mossman will probably get me to do things to you. Go with it, it'll make things easier for you later on. If you clam up, they could end up really hurting you so try to relax as much as you can. I might have somethin' I can give you, once we're in there if Mr. Mossman lets you have any. If I get my hands on some, when I tell you to, sniff it as hard as you can."

"What is it I'd be sniffing?"

"Amyl nitrite. Take it if I can get it, don't argue, just take it and be grateful. Most of the models don't even get that."

Suddenly, the door opened and Heckler came back through it.

"Come on then, Beautiful, you're on!"

He joined Colt and together they once again frog marched Doyle towards the door. At the threshold Doyle suddenly skidded to a halt nearly pulling them all over. He started in alarm as he recognised the space into which he was being taken. It was the old gymnasium which he had seen in some of the films. One of the thugs pushed him roughly forwards so that he almost fell into the room.

Before him were a gathering of people. On one side, Dieter Kroll was seated, flanked by two men who Doyle recognised as Laker and Delaney. In the middle, stood a smiling Mossman lovingly stroking the riding whip that he held. On the far side were ten men dressed in well-cut business suits. Some were stood casually, with hands in pockets. Some held their hands behind their backs. Two had the start of very obvious erections and one was gently rubbing his crotch.

Doyle was pushed into the centre of the room where he was turned for inspection before the group of men the same way he had been the day before. A couple of the men whistled and now all of them had broad smiles on their faces. He was then thrust forward towards a vaulting horse. It had a small springboard placed by it. Jason led Doyle to it and indicated that he spread his legs by smacking the insides of his thighs. The jarring on the cuffs was enough to cause Doyle to instinctively comply. Jason then dragged over the springboard and dropped it between Doyle's feet so that it effectively pinned down the chain between the cuffs.

Laker approached Doyle with a set of handcuff keys and started to undo the wrist cuffs. In blind panic as soon as one arm was loose, Doyle turned and attempted to strike out at him. Quickly, Colt darted forwards holding the business end of the picana which he jabbed at the small of Doyle's back. The twenty thousand volts which forced themselves into Doyle's body threw him forwards over the vaulting horse. The pain was indescribable and once again Doyle forced back vomit.

Some of the suited men whistled again and one clapped.

Rapidly, Laker and Jason refastened Doyle's wrists into different cuffs which were chained onto anchors which were bolted to the floor on the other side of the horse.

Dazed and defeated, Doyle realised that he was now effectively immobilised.

Seeing that the prisoner was now controlled, Kroll once again seemed to lose interest in the goings on. Nodding to Mossman to take control, he rose from his chair and left the gymnasium.

Seemingly in his element, Mossman began to address his guests.

"Gentlemen! Welcome to our humble abode and here's to another successful gathering!

For those of you who haven't been guests of ours before, and a little reminder to those that have, there are a few rules we require you abide by. Firstly, you are all required to wear a sheath. As you know, all of our models are guaranteed to be clean. However this is for your own protection, gentlemen. None of you knows where each other has been so this is something we sadly have to insist on. Our beautiful caretaker Jay can help you out in that respect, providing you with all you may need.

The next rule is that every man has exactly three minutes. When your three minutes are up, a bell will ring and you must step aside and let the next guest have his turn. Therefore, make sure when your turn comes around, you are ready and able. The order of turns is decided by the drawing of straws. Jason will ready the model a little beforehand so that he is a little more compliant. We don't after all want you wasting any of your three minutes getting him going.

You are NOT to physically damage the model to the extent that he is unusable to the next guest under any circumstances. When every guest has taken his turn you are welcome to all have another go, in the same order if you wish, or if you want to arrange a group activity between yourselves, then that is your prerogative. As long as every guest has taken his turn and the model is still standing, you are then more or less free to do what you like to him.

He's an aggressive little chap this one, so dominating him should be pleasurable to you all. We'll be keeping his mouth un-taped for the moment as I know you like to hear them scream, but if he becomes too abusive we can always remedy that if you wish, all you need to do is ask.

And that gentlemen concludes the guidelines for this event. Thank you for using our services, and please, do enjoy yourselves!"

For a few minutes there was muted chatter whilst Jason handed out condoms and people began to pull numbered straws. Doyle was trying to channel his mind into a meditative state. It wasn't working. He desperately strived for a higher mental plane as his mentor had taught him. It wouldn't come. He could raise his head enough to look into the eyes of the men, most of which were now in a state of undress. He pulled against the chains as desperate for escape as a wild horse. This seemed to please the men enormously and all too late, Doyle realised his mistake in exciting them more.

Jason came over to Doyle and started to gently whisper to him.

"Keep still and go with it like I said. I'm not gonna hurt you but those blokes will if you don't let me do my job."

With that he went behind Doyle knelt down and pulled the cheeks of his bottom apart. Doyle froze horrified. The next thing he felt was Jason tonguing his anus voraciously. Doyle squirmed as he felt the clever tongue darting in and out of him. Knowing his job, Jason quickly stood and attempted to insert some fingers into Doyle. They aimed for, found and massaged Doyle's prostate almost immediately. Doyle shuddered and almost cried out at the intrusion.

"Oh my God, this lot are gonna eat you alive, loosen up for Christ's sake! They won't wait around forever just for you to be ready. Take a big sniff on this."

Jason broke the top from a small vial he produced and placed it under Doyle's nose. Having no other back up plan, Doyle located the tiny bottle with his left nostril and took a huge sniff. Though his head felt a little fuzzy, for a moment nothing happened. Then with the force of a bulldozer, a huge explosion erupted in his testicles. He slumped over the vaulting horse exhausted.

"Yep, he's ready." said Jason.

~~~oOo~~~

Betty rushed through to Cowley's office with an armload of paperwork. Slightly flustered but still the consummate professional, she began to explain the computers findings.

"Well it's a bit like a needle in a haystack, Sir. As you know the incoming call was too brief to be traced, though we are assuming it came from a telephone box as there were pips heard at the end of the call.

We've concentrated the computer searches on land registry records and the current electoral roll. There are however, sixty five properties which feature the name 'Waverley' in some shape or form in the Windsor area. We therefore narrowed the search to more rural areas and unoccupied properties of which there were two. One is a little uncertain, 'Waverley' was vacated by a Doctor and Mrs. Patel six months ago but according to the estate agents listing, it’s currently under offer of sale even though it has been empty for all that time.

A real possibility however is this one, ‘Waverley House’ in Winkfield, I have the coordinates here for you before you ask, Bodie. Waverley House was bequeathed to the Royal Navy in the late nineteen forties. Looking at their records we found that they used it as a training and rehabilitation centre. It was however, in bad repair. It was also rather surplus to their requirements, not being particularly near to any naval town. They therefore decided to offload it rather than pay for renovations. It was sold by auction in 1972.”

"Who bought it?" urged Cowley.

"A building firm, Sir. An application for planning was submitted but never granted nor chased up. It seemed the applicant died from a heart attack soon after his purchase. We don't have anything on him as his office was based in Northern Ireland. His name was Richard Delaney."

Bodies’ eyes glittered with anticipation.

"That's got to be it Sir, Marcus Delaney, Richard Delaney's son? He must have kept the place on when the old man croaked."

Cowley looked thoughtful for just a moment before replying.

"Yes, Bodie I'm inclined to agree with you. Betty, those coordinates please, we need to know how quickly we can reach the place by road. A chopper would take time to organize that we might not have. Well come on 3~7, look to it laddie, let’s go and find your partner!"

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle stared at the ten men in front of him concentrating on hating them and wishing every conceivable hurt upon their heads. He couldn't have hated them more that he hated himself at that moment however. How the hell had he got into this? Call himself a professional? He had behaved like a rank amateur and now he was paying the price for it.

The first of the men came towards Doyle. Then positioning himself behind him, without warning or preamble, he roughly thrust himself into the prone man. Doyle's resulting scream echoed around the gymnasium.

~~~oOo~~~

It took the team forty five minutes to reach Waverley House. Tensions were running high. Everyone looked as though they were considering the possibility of this being the wrong place or being too late to save Doyle, though their thoughts remained unvoiced.

Vehicles were abandoned to the undergrowth surrounding the house and with guns drawn, agents looked for points which might permit them access.

A scattering of new, flashy cars confirmed that something was happening within. Bodie however needed no such confirmation. Ray was here, he was sure of it. He could feel Doyle's nearby presence as he had so many times before.

A quiet signal indicated that the house had been breached and that agents were now inside. Bodie prepared himself to go to work.

~~~oOo~~~

The first nine minutes had gone surprisingly quickly, though Doyle knew he would forever after remember every second. The first man had even pulled out of Doyle before the bell had gone off, obviously being a little too ready to be able to get his full money’s worth. The man had sharply slapped Doyle's rump as a parting shot.

The third man had been the roughest, pumping in and out of Doyle like a jackhammer. After two minutes, he abruptly stopped and withdrew. This disturbed Doyle more than the man actually raping him did. The man quickly moved around the vaulting horse, whipped the sheath from his penis and ejaculated towards Doyle's face. Doyle tried to jerk his head away but felt warm fluid trickle down his cheek. The loud shrilling of the bell made both men jump.

The fourth man filled Doyle with more dread than all the rest put together. He was big. Very big. The old adage that muscle bound men all had small dicks obviously wasn't true. And he looked mean. The sort of man that wouldn't be stopped by a bell. Had he been in a position to be more observant, Doyle would have seen that even Mossman looked nervous. The muscleman strutted over like a peacock. He positioned himself on the springboard before reaching round and grasping Doyle's penis firmly. He was the first of the party goers to actually speak to Doyle. He laid himself along Doyle's sweating back and whispered to him,

"I'm gonna fuck that tight little arse of yours, pretty boy and while I do, I'm gonna make you come."

Doyle was now slick from those that had gone before and the man slid into him with ease. The man’s penis seemed to home towards Doyle's prostate in the same way that Jason's fingers had done and Doyle gasped in surprise. The sensations the amyl nitrite had produced reasserted themselves and filled with shame, Doyle found himself pushing himself into the man’s willing hand.

Tears started to roll from Doyle's eyes. The more the man plunged into him, the more he thrust back into the man’s fist. This was more debasing than anything that had happened to him before. He had been reduced to what he was, a 'fucking little faggot' as Bodie would have put it, reacting to this steroid built creature who seemed to have complete control over his every movement. The man spoke to him again obviously enjoying himself enormously.

"Don't tell me you're not loving it, sweet cheeks, 'cos I know different and you know it too!"

"Please, stop please!" Doyle implored.

"Don't think so, Sunshine, not whilst we're having so much fun together. Look even that boss man's so transfixed he's forgotten to ring his little bell!"

The use of the familiar nickname was the undoing of Doyle and he openly started to sob.

The remaining men were less mindful of their own turn than the obvious distress of the slave and several were openly masturbating over the show in front of them.

Doyle wished himself dead. The man’s expert pumping of his penis was causing him to feel lightheaded and he was suddenly grateful that rescue had never been forthcoming. If Bodie had ever seen him like this ...

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie burst through the door like a charging bull. He assessed the situation in a second. Someone was assaulting his partner. Bodie put a wing shot into the surprised man behind Doyle's prone body. In what looked like slow motion, the man fell backwards away from Doyle. His head bouncing off the floor was what killed him.

In his peripheral vision, Bodie saw the insipid Mossman reach down for something behind the desk at which he was sat. It might have been a firearm. It might have been a spare roll of lavatory paper for all Bodie was concerned, the threat was there and Bodie shot him dead.

The far end door flung open. Opened mouthed, Dieter Kroll stood there pointing a gun, looking astonished.

'Oh fucking terrific!' Bodie thought to himself recognising the diplomat instantly. If Bodie had to serve time for it, he wasn't letting get the bastard get away with it this time and raised his weapon.

The final bullet fired from Cowley's gun into Kroll silenced the total panic which had overtaken the gymnasium. Satisfied, Bodie turned his thoughts to more important matters. He left his fellow agents to round up the rest of the faces he would never forget, and rushed over to his partner.

Jason Walsh had been trying very hard to fade into the shadows, but Bodie knew exactly where he was and barked at him.

"You! Keys now!"

Jason seemed confused for a minute, until he realised that the enigmatic stranger meant the keys to the cuffs that were still immobilising the model. He deduced that this looker was probably Bodie, and he agreed with Mr. Doyle's choice wholeheartedly. He fumbled around for a few minutes behind the desk, desperately not wishing to show himself up by vomiting over the sight of Mossman's revolting dead body.

Walsh produced the keys for Bodie who rushed to Doyle's side. A middle aged man waved something at him as if warning him off.

"Don't touch it, Bodie or let it touch you." Doyle said faintly.

"No problem, Sunbeam." replied Bodie before swiftly turning and kicking the man in the chest. Bert Hawkins, (the man Doyle knew as Heckler), fell away stunned, the rod of the picana still in his hand.

Bodie was dimly aware of the activity around him. The local force who had been summoned on route had turned up. Obviously astounded at what they found within the house, they were still doing a reasonable job of assisting Jax and Murphy round up their new prisoners. Lucas and McCabe were already on their way to begin the extensive search of the property. Cowley was talking to ambulance control. Several frantic looking men were hopping about trying to get their legs into trousers.

Bodie ignored them all.

Quietly and competently he released his partner from the restraints which held him. Doyle collapsed against him shaking so violently that Bodie feared for a moment that he might be fitting. Bodie gently guided him to the corner furthest away from all the activity, though to the plods credit, they were respectively trying avert their eyes away from Doyle.

Walsh who suddenly found himself without a boss, seemed perfectly happy to change his allegiance to Bodie and found a blanket when asked. His initial fear of the imposing man had ebbed away when he realised how scared Bodie himself seemed. Bodie was visibly relaxing now he had his partner safe. No doubt about how those two felt about each other then.

Bodie gently lowered Doyle to the floor and drew the blanket around him. Instantly, Doyle burrowed himself into Bodie’s protective embrace trying to make himself as small as possible. Whispering softly to him and holding him tight, Bodie gradually felt the shudders start to subside.

Bodie raised his head in enquiry when Murphy leant over them.

"Ambulance is on the way, Bodie." Murphy said quietly before melting away again.

Davey Thompson who had arrived with Murph, simply stood there as if rooted to the spot, staring down at Doyle. As if feeling the eyes upon him, Doyle emerged from his blanket with the wild look of a hunted animal.

Bodie was in no mood to be pushed any further.

"When you're quite bloody sure you've had a good enough look, 'praps you could try doing something useful? He must have some clothes around here somewhere, bloody well go and find 'em!"

Chastened, Thompson meekly took himself off.

What seemed like an eternity later, a policeman returned with what looked like Doyle's missing clothing. As competently as he was able, Bodie helped his partner struggle to dress. Cowley approached them, looked Doyle up and down briefly and addressed Bodie.

"See 4~5 to hospital, Bodie and stay with him, they're expecting you. I'll be with you as soon as I can be."

Doyle, who been somnolent, suddenly spoke urgently to Cowley. "Look after Jason Walsh, don't let him get locked up."

This seemed to take all of Doyle's energy and he went quiet again. Nodding at Cowley, Bodie proceeded to help Doyle slowly to the waiting ambulance.

~~~oOo~~~

The on duty police surgeon Doctor Greenslade, was decidedly out of his comfort zone.

After a rudimentary examination of his patient, he was attempting to get through a checklist of questions, clearly flustered. The tall man, Bodie, who accompanied the patient, was refusing to leave the cubicle under any circumstances. The patient himself didn't seem keen on answering the questions either and Greenslade was getting more and more frustrated.

"You say the men that attacked you wore French letters. Did you at any time, ingest seminal fluids?"

Doyle cringed. Bodie exploded.

"Oh for Christ's bloody sake! Can't you see he's had enough?"

"I assure you, Mr. Bodie that it is not my intention to embarrass your colleague, but he simply must answer these questions if we are to be able to help him."

The curtain was suddenly pulled back and a woman entered.

"Doctor Greenslade? I hope you don't mind my intrusion, but I have a case that you might find rather interesting. I can willingly take over here if it's of any help to you?"

Greenslade seemed relieved at the interruption and within a few moments had made his excuses and left. The woman made her introductions to Bodie and Doyle.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Kennedy. Apologies for Doctor Greenslade. Police duties don't always suit his rather old fashioned ways I'm afraid. His bedside manner isn't always what it could be. He is correct in one respect however. We do need a little bit of information from you, and, if you don't mind speaking to a woman, I can promise to have you gents out of here as soon as possible."

The doctor’s capable manner put the partners more at ease. Doyle was just about able to tell her the bare bones of what she needed to know.

"It's possible you might suffer pain, particularly in your lower back. We'll give you analgesics for that. A stiff course of antibiotics certainly won't hurt you, you'll get those too and salve for your wrists and ankles. If you experience soreness in more intimate areas, the salve can be safely applied there as well.

Now. We're going to take some blood from you to test. Please don't be too worried. We always have to consider the possibility of venereal diseases in these cases, but I think you're at fairly low risk from what you've told me. We're just being cautious. The results can take quite a while to come through, but if we find anything untoward, we'll notify you as soon as possible.

In the meantime, I reiterate, please try not to worry. I know that's easy for me to say. You've had a pretty awful time, Mr. Doyle, so I'm also going to prescribe you something to help you sleep, should you need it. Be careful of your alcohol intake with these however. Now, the nurse is just going to get that blood out of you, so I'll leave you for a minute, but if there's anything you need or if symptoms develop which concern you, we’re always here to help."

With that the doctor left the cubicle and beckoned Bodie to go with her.

"Your Mr. Cowley has informed me that you'll be taking care of him, is that correct?"

"Yep."

"Good man. There are just a few things to be alert for."

Bodie didn't really want to hear them, but indicated to her to continue.

"I've seen a few of these cases before and they're never easy. Watch him carefully, Mr. Bodie. Even if he seems to be coping well, it's all too possible that he won't be. The first few days will be crucial. I know you chaps are trained to deal with stressful situations. However the occurrence of suicide attempts or self-harm in victims can be significant after this sort of incident, so please be vigilant. In particular watch him with the sleeping pills. He'll probably want to wash when he gets home ...”

"Yeah I know, don't let him scrub at himself."

"You have some experience of this sort of case?"

"Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Well that's all the better for him. Were you a policeman or something?"

"No, Ray was the copper, my experience … well let’s say it was on a more personal level."

"Oh I see! In that case, are you sure that you're the right person to be looking after him?"

"Absolutely."

"Well as long as you don't underestimate what you're taking on. We're here to help you as well you know. If things become too hard on either of you, you must let someone know. I've heard that Kate Ross is working with you now, she's a good start if you need support yourself."

Bodie made a face.

"Oh come now, Mr. Bodie, I've known Kate Ross for years and am telling you she's exceptionally good at what she does."

"You'd have to go quite a way to persuade most of CI5 to believe that, Doctor."

"Now come on, think how hard it must be for her to be disliked simply because of the job she does. She is there for your benefit you know, so use her if you need to. Alternatively, there are always people who can help here, should either of you need it, it's just important that you ask, okay?"

Bodie nodded sheepishly.

A loud clanging noise made both Bodie and Doctor Kennedy jump. The nurse flung back the curtain looking slightly flushed.

"I think the patient's given all the blood he's going to give today!" she wailed, and scooping up the dropped kidney dish, fled for more appreciative cases.

Bodie was by Doyle's side in an instant.

"You obviously need more tips on pulling nurses, Sunshine."

"Please, just get me out of here, Bodie."

Doyle's voice was little more than a whisper and Bodie knew that he wouldn't cope with much more. His only concern now was getting his partner to a place of safety. The doctor seemed to know it too and with a few parting words of reassurance ushered them out of the cubicle.

Cowley was waiting for them by the nurse’s station.

"I'm taking Doyle home, Sir. Reports are going to have to wait I'm afraid."

"Aye, laddie, that's for the best. I'll contact you both sometime tomorrow. See that 4~5 gets some rest 3~7."

"Yes Sir, I will."

Bodie bid his controller Goodnight. Doyle hardly appeared to notice that Cowley was there.

~~~oOo~~~

Cowley returned to headquarters feeling old and tired.

Shooting Kroll had been a churlish act, although he was certain that the East Germans had washed their hands of him.

If there was one thing that even Cowley would not stand for however, it was seeing one of his men abused in such a way, whatever the gain. This might well see Doyle lost to CI5 and probably Bodie with him if he didn't know the man any better.

However, it still meant that deals may have to be done. He would do what he could to keep Doyle from having to go into the witness box, and that meant that some men could possibly walk away from this.

A ‘D’ notice would protect Doyle but did not have to extend to the partygoers. He would lose no sleep if their friends, neighbours and employers were all treated to a little splash in the Evening Standard reporting their nefarious pastimes.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle was silent as Bodie drove them to his flat and Bodie didn't push him to talk.

Though it was late March, the weather had resumed a wintry wrath. Bodie tried to hurry Doyle through the wind, but his partner seemed in no condition to rush. Bodie tried to shield him from the worst it.

Bodie dealt with the locks and ushered Doyle inside. The flat was chilly, but for once was in reasonable order, Doyle having done his housekeeping before starting his op.

Bodie went directly over to the chest of drawers in the corner. Retrieving the bottle of Scotch from the top drawer, he poured measures for each of them. Doyle didn't really seem to know what to do with himself, so Bodie sat him down and pressed the glass into his hands. He then left him in order to crank up the heating system.

When he returned, Doyle was still clasping the glass, the drink untouched.

"I need to shower, Bodie, I stink to high heaven." he whispered.

Oddly, until it was pointed out to him, Bodie hadn't noticed.

"Give it ten minutes, Sunshine, let the water get nice and hot."

Bodie didn't quite understand the little tremor that well used nickname caused.

Doyle sat quietly for a minute staring into the still untouched whisky.

"Bodie, if I asked you to do something for me, would you do it, please?"

Bodie contemplated a glib answer for just a moment, but decided this probably wasn't the time.

"What is it, mate?"

"Cut this off." he said, vaguely indicating his hair without actually touching it.

"Certainly not! Why would you want me to do that?"

"Because it stinks and it's full of shit and it's driving me crazy."

"Then wash it, Dear Raymond, Dear Raymond ..."

"I can't fucking wash it!"

"Why not?"

Doyle gave Bodie one of the most heart breaking looks he'd ever seen from the man.

"'Cos I can't get my arms that high."

Bodie cursed himself.

"Oh, Ray for Christ's sake! I'm sorry, I just didn't think."

Doyle stared down into his drink again.

"Look, Ray, I could use a shower myself. Do you trust me enough to wash it for you?"

Doyle looked up at him uncertainly.

"You'll feel better afterwards, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

Bodie had been surer walking into minefields, but his partner needed him and he wasn't about to let him down. He drew Doyle to his feet and within a few minutes they were outside the bathroom shucking their clothes.

Though Bodie always swore he would miss having a bathtub, he envied Doyle his walk-in shower and it was about to prove itself invaluable for their needs. He consciously tried to put aside his embarrassment at his own nakedness. God only knew Ray must be feeling ten times worse.

Doyle stood under the falling water, clutching his sponge, shivering. Suddenly, he started to viciously scrub at himself but Bodie had already anticipated him.

"No, Ray, there's no need for that."

He took the sponge from Doyle's hands and laid it aside.

Doyle stared ahead of him giving every impression of shutting down. Bodie gently and as efficiently as he was able, shampooed the forlorn looking locks. It took two foamy applications before Bodie was satisfied that the hair squeaked.

Doyle still seemed somewhat oblivious, so Bodie quickly began to soap him down. Suddenly Doyle shrieked.

"That's not the carbolic is it?"

Bodie squinted down through the streaming water and focused on the little crimson rectangle.

"No, Ray. It's Imperial Leather."

Doyle seemed satisfied and went quiet and still again.

Bodie efficiently washed Doyle, taking care with the sore wrists and feet. There were two areas left however, that left him a bit unsettled.

"Do you want to er, finish washing, well you know, the rest of yourself?"

"It’s okay I do know what you mean, Bodie, I'm not completely stupid!" Doyle snapped, snatching the sponge.

Bodie looked up in dismay and even with the water still cascading over them he was sure he saw tears in Ray’s eyes.

"Course, mate, here you go." he said handing Doyle the soap. "I'll get out and get dried up, leave you to it for a minute."

"Oh don't mind me, Bodie, after all it's nothing everyone else hasn't seen before is it?" Doyle sneered.

Bodie exited the cubicle and quickly dried and dressed himself. The one thing he couldn't handle at the moment was a fight with Ray, and he struggled to fight back tears of his own.

He heard the water stop and looked up to see Doyle stood in the cubicle shivering again. Ignoring his own feelings, he held out a fresh towel for Doyle to step into.

Doyle flashed him a guilty look.

"Sorry, Bodie." he murmured.

"Hey it's fine. Come on let's get you dry."

He half wrapped, half embraced Doyle with the towel and chastened, Doyle dropped his head onto Bodie's shoulder.

Bodie gently circled his hand over Doyle's back, feeling him calming again. Outside the bathroom, Doyle spotted the discarded threads of Ray Duncan.

"Oh God, Bodie, get that shit out of here!" he exclaimed horrified.

"S'ok, mate. You go and get something warm on and I'll deal with all that okay? Just call me if you have any trouble with the sleeves."

Nodding once, Doyle edged round the clothes on the floor as if they were likely to jump up and bite him. Bodie left him to it, scooped up the clothing and made off for the kitchen. After he had found a bin bag in which to dump the garments, Bodie's mind turned to feeding his partner. Ray had little in, having been holed up in the hotel for two weeks, and Bodie was loathe to leave him to go out for supplies. Ray could take morning coffee without milk, they had loo rolls and they beer, shopping could wait.

Hearing Ray behind him, Bodie turned.

"Indian or Chinese, Sunsh..."

The change in Doyle's appearance took Bodie aback for a second and he tried to cover his surprise. It was a few years since Bodie had seen Doyle wear the old tracksuit bottoms, and that had only been when Doyle had been working on his bike. The shapeless cardigan was something Bodie had never seen before and was at least two sizes too big.

"I'm not hungry to be honest, Bodie, just get something for yourself if you want to." Doyle said vaguely.

Bodie phoned the local Chinese with an order that included lots of Doyle's favourites.

He guided Doyle to the armchair and put the Scotch back in his hands.

"Do you need any painkillers, Ray?"

"No. Back hurts a bit, but not enough for pills."

"The doctor did say it might." Bodie didn't add that he knew damn well being raped played havoc with the lower back.

"Having a few thousand volts shot through it does tend to cause that, yes." Doyle whispered.

"What? You mean that bastard actually touched you with that thing?"

"Yeah."

"Well you didn't tell the doctor that did you!"

"Not like she could have undone it, was it?"

"Well is there anything else you didn't tell her about?"

"Not that you didn't get to see for yourself in glorious Technicolor, no."

"Okay, okay, mate I'm sorry, just can't believe those bastards, Ray. I ... I'm, just so fucking SORRY."

"Doyle looked up as if wondering what on earth Bodie had to be sorry about, but before they could speak more the door buzzer announced the arrival of food.

Bodie dished up and put the steaming dishes in front of Doyle.

"You have to eat, God knows when you last did, so they'll be no arguments, Ray."

Doyle surprised himself by appreciating the smells coming from the table. He did manage to eat a little to Bodie's satisfaction, but he didn't really taste the food. Eating seemed to exhaust him however and to Bodie's surprise, when he suggested Doyle went to bed, the man complied.

Bodie busied himself with clearing up from the meal. It was only nine o'clock. Though Ray's flat had two bedrooms, he didn't feel ready to turn in himself. He turned on the television and looked at it absently. It annoyed rather than entertained him so he switched it off again. He considered calling Cowley, but it was more for someone to talk to than to report or receive any news. He was tired but restless and couldn't contemplate sleep. He laid himself along the couch and allowed his eyes to close. Five minutes relaxation wouldn't hurt ...

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie was shocked awake by a startled cry. He shook his head to clear his vision. Where was he?

He looked down.

Striped Draylon.

Ray's settee.

Ray.

Shit.

Bodie bolted to Ray's bedroom to find his stricken partner sat upright, sweating profusely and panting heavily.

"Ray! You alright?"

"Bodie?"

"Yes, Ray it's me."

"Room's ... full of smoke."

"There's no smoke now, Ray."

"I couldn't see."

"The smoke's all gone, Ray, you're safe now."

"I couldn't see, I couldn't see you! It was all full of smoke. They came for me and I couldn't get to you. I tried, I really tried!"

"Ssshh, Ray, it's ok. We chucked a smoke bomb in to shake 'em up. They're all locked up now, they can't hurt you."

"They hurt me already."

"I know they did and I'm so sorry."

"Why? They hurt me. You didn't."

Bodie had no idea what to say, but Ray seemed tired again so he happily let him sink back against the pillow. Just about to quietly leave, he was stilled by Doyle's sudden cry.

"Don't go! Please stay?"

"You okay, Ray?"

"Oh God, Bodie, please don't leave me on my own."

"No, I won't if you don't want me to."

"You won't go, will you?"

"Look, I'll just go and check the locks and switch the lights off and I'll be back okay?"

Doyle was quiet again and Bodie quickly left to shut down the flat for the night. When he returned, Doyle was sat up and starting to hyperventilate again.

"Hey mate, it’s okay, I'm back, settle yourself down, there's nothing here that's gonna hurt you."

Doyle settled back down into bed facing away from Bodie who sat himself down into the nearby easy chair.

A muffled voice came from the direction of the bed.

"Don't stay there, Bodie, you'll get cold in the night. Come over here, bed's big enough."

Bodie didn't think the idea of lying next to a naked Ray Doyle was a very good idea. Not a very good idea at all. He considered putting a tee shirt on but the room was warm and he knew he'd be sweltering in minutes. His pants however, would remain firmly on.

Doyle took his hesitancy for rejection.

'S'ok Bodie, I understand if you don't want to be anywhere near me," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly.

Bodie stopped thinking altogether. He slid into the bed, and before he realised what he was doing, he put his arm around Ray’s waist and gathered the man close to him.

'Christ, now what have I done!' Bodie thought to himself, fully expecting Doyle to leap out of the bed in horror.

But to his surprise, Doyle tentatively brushed Bodies hand with his own. Bodie let his fingers slide into Ray's and remarkably quickly, both of them fell into sleep.

Outside, the wind was howling and rain started to hit the window panes.

Inside Ray Doyle's bedroom, all was warm and quiet and safe.

~~~oOo~~~

The screeching wind briefly woke Bodie ten hours later. He was cosy and content and his face was snuggled into a mass of soft, warm curls. Idle curiosity forced him to crank an eyelid open enough to enquire about the hair’s owner. It was just Ray. That was all right then.

Doyle shifted slightly, the subconscious knowledge of the body wrapped around him making him feel tranquil and secure. The slight movement brought him to awareness. Bodie was here with him. He squirmed experimentally. His arse was sore. Bloody Hell! Bodie and he had never ... had they? Memory washed over him like a bucket of cold water and he leapt from the bed taking half the bedding with him.

"Ray?" Bodie enquired groggily.

But Doyle had fled to the bathroom. Two minutes later Bodie heard the unmistakable retching sounds of Doyle losing his small meal from the night before. Poor Ray. Bodie knew just how the man must be feeling and felt powerless to help him through it. He heard the shower start up again. Knowing that Ray's obsessive need for cleanliness would likely go on for several days if not longer, Bodie didn't intervene. He wouldn't be thanked for mothering.

Ray came back into the bedroom looking pink and scrubbed. His hair was still dry, so obviously the stiff arms and shoulders were still giving him trouble.

"You okay, Ray?" Bodie asked softly.

Doyle didn't reply. He swiftly dressed in fresh underwear and the same baggy clothes that he had donned the night before, before charging off out to the kitchen.

'Oh great. Mr. Moody's back then.' Bodie thought to himself.

He took himself off to the bathroom. He splashed some cold water on his face and brushed his teeth before nicking a few squirts of Ray's Right Guard.

He returned to the bedroom and searched for clean clothes. He normally had a few changes at Ray's, though more often than not when Ray became idle with his laundry duties, Bodie’s threads were as well used by Ray as his own. Bodie was in luck that morning however. Ray had also included Bodie's washing on his last trip to the Coin Op.

Bodie was soon dressed and ready to face whatever wrath his partner was due to throw at him. Sighing, he longed for the protective cocoon the bed had provided not half an hour before. He shook his wishes away and went to find his partner.

Ray was scowling into the opened fridge.

"There's no milk!" he barked at Bodie unnecessarily.

Bodie didn't really know if he was meant to answer.

"Take your coffee black for the moment, Ray."

"No, I'll go to the corner shop."

Bodie’s protective instincts asserted themselves. Everything screamed at him to keep Ray close. The doctor had recommended it and Cowley had demanded it. The thin line between protection and imprisonment however left his mind in turmoil.

"Have it black for now and when the supermarket opens, we can drive there and do a big shop."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Bodie it's only a pint of milk, I think even I can manage to get that!"

"Have you seen it out there, you'll be soaked to the skin in seconds!"

"So I'll get fuckin' wet! For God's sake, Bodie why do you always have to fuckin' argue with me?"

The words 'pot' and 'kettle' sprung to Bodie's mind, but he just shrugged and decided to let Ray get on with it. It looked like it could be another long day.

Noticing the torrential weather had obviously given Doyle pause for thought however and he grudgingly made himself a cup of black coffee before resuming his diatribe.

"The supermarket will have to wait anyway, we have to get to HQ."

"Why, Ray, they won't be expecting us in this morning?"

"We'll have to go in sooner or later. There are reports that have to be written. Cowley will probably want to tear strips off me and I dare say the Ice Princess will want to put in her tuppence worth."

Headquarters was the last place that Bodie really wanted to be, but the morning was rapidly turning into a peacekeeping mission and he wasn't prepared to make things any worse. The partners shut up the flat and drove to HQ in strained silence.

Inside the CI5 building, Doyle’s angry bravado fled when they ran into Jax.

"Hi, Bodie, Ray."

If Jax noticed Doyle trying to make himself invisible behind Bodie, he didn't comment on it.

"Hi, Jax, old man in?"

"Yeah in the office mate. You okay, you two?"

Mumbling their affirmatives, the partners made their excuses and headed for the controller’s office.

~~~oOo~~~

Betty demurely waved the partners into Cowley's solemn domain. Cowley looked up at them, both surprised and concerned.

"How are you 4~5?"

Doyle shrugged vaguely.

"Well, I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you both this morning, but trust that you've both managed some rest at least after the unfortunate events of yesterday?"

Bodie mumbled a reply and Doyle remained silent.

"Well now that you are here, I can give you updates on the suspects captured yesterday should you wish to hear them?"

The partners sat.

"Delany and Laker are singing like birds. Delany is quite obviously terrified, and Laker furious. The house search which is still going on, has provided enough evidence against the pair of them to secure convictions without too much trouble. Both are understandably pointing the finger of blame towards Mossman.

Neither seemed to have much interest or knowledge of Kroll's activities. It would seem his interest was entirely centred on financial gain. Politically, their scant knowledge of him is to our advantage. The Germans have been informed of the unfortunate loss of their agent during a siege, and so far seem to be accepting the situation with grace."

Bodie briefly thought that the advantage was solely Cowley's on that one, but did not voice the opinion. He would have shot Kroll just as readily.

Cowley resumed the recital of his list.

"David Fossett and Albert Hawkins were the hired heavies. Petty criminals the both of them and neither a stranger to a prison cell. Both are begging to do deals."

"What's happened to Walsh, Sir?" Doyle asked quietly.

"Ah yes, Doyle, Walsh. The young man has I think, rather been in his element since he was brought in. Self-assured little chap, isn't he? Considers himself to be quite the hero now by all accounts. He's been fed, several times I might add, and given a bed for the night. He's currently still helping us with our enquiries and seems in no particular hurry to leave. He'll be returned to his street domain before the end of the day, whether he quite likes it or not!"

Doyle gave a small smile, apparently satisfied.

"The man who was seen assaulting Doyle, the one you shot Bodie, was one Jerry Baldwin. He was a body builder who managed a boxing club. He had old convictions for possession of non-prescribed medicinal substances. Also, an accusation was made three years ago for sexual assault which was never substantiated. He leaves a wife who, incidentally has a record of numerous admissions to hospital with unexplained cuts, bruises and broken bones. He also has two small daughters.

"Pleasant chap then." said Bodie.

"Och, we can only make assumptions Bodie. The wife never made any accusations against him and the supposed assault was never followed up."

"We DO know that he was guilty of assaulting Ray though, Sir."

"Aye, we do, and I won't lose too much sleep over his demise, though the situation is most unfortunate for his remaining family."

Doyle shrank in his chair looking slightly green.

Cowley continued.

"Walsh has provided details for the remaining nine guests and the other two who actually assaulted Doyle have been identified. I foresee few problems, assuming that you are in agreement, Doyle, in having those two charged with statutory rape."

Bodie looked up incredulously and Doyle stifled a gasp.

"Are you suggesting for one moment that Ray was a willing participant, Sir?"

"Indeed I am not, Bodie, but you can assure yourselves that their lawyers will be, so it's best for us to be prepared for that.

All ten guests were gainfully employed, some in very lucrative professions. They will all be able to afford good legal representation. Most were also married and had families. We are looking at making charges for aiding, abetting, counselling and procuring attempted rape for the remaining seven partygoers. I can't see any of them wanting to go down without a fight."

Cowley continued to relate the facts and figures that he knew about the guests. Occasionally, Bodie interjected with a question or comment, but Doyle seemed to switch off, apparently in a world of his own. Without warning, he suddenly leapt from his chair and made for the door.

"Sorry, toilet." he muttered quickly.

"Doyle you can use the toilet here ..." exclaimed Cowley but Doyle was gone.

"Och, go after him lad, see he's alright." Cowley instructed Bodie.

Bodie followed his partner and waited outside the closed cubicle. Ten minutes later, Doyle emerged looking pale and shaky. He nevertheless brushed off Bodie's concern as he thoroughly washed and rewashed his hands.

On exiting the bathroom, the partners almost collided with Davey Thompson. The shock of it rendered Thompson speechless and he simply stood there, his mouth gulping like a fish. He stared at Doyle desperately trying to think of something to say. He finally opened his mouth as if to speak but Bodie interjected him.

"Oh just sod off, Thompson." And with that, he whisked his partner off back to Cowley's office.

By the time they arrived, Kate Ross was sat opposite Cowley's desk.

"Ah 4~5, Miss Ross and I would like a talk with you if it's convenient. In private if it's all the same to you, Bodie."

Bodie didn't know whether to be more scandalised at Cowley's uncharacteristic politeness towards Doyle, or the fact that he himself was being excluded, and was about to loudly voice the fact.

Cowley cut him off. “I’m sure you have a report that you need to start writing and I'll send for you when we're done."

The statement brooked no argument and Bodie questioned Doyle with his eyes. Doyle simply shrugged and made his way over to the chair.

In no mood for report writing, Bodie took himself to the restroom where he found Murphy who was making tea. Automatically reaching for a second cup when he saw Bodie enter, Murphy smiled at his old friend.

"Hey, Bodie, how's he doing?" he asked gently.

"He's in shock mate. He's angry and self-conscious and who can blame him? Knocking into that little idiot Thompson a few minutes ago hasn't helped matters either."

"Thompson's okay really, Bodie. What he saw yesterday shook him up really bad and I don't think he knows how to handle it yet. That's the same for all of us if truth be told."

"Must be ten times worse for Doyle, he hardly knows where to put himself at the moment."

"Is The Cow giving him time off?"

"Well he's in no fit state to for duty. He's in with the old man and Ross as we speak."

“Was he … um … was he you know, badly injured?”

“Well his shoulders are sore from being cuffed and his back's a bit bad but considering what happened to him, he’s been lucky.”

“What no trouble, you know, elsewhere?”

“Nothing the doctors seemed worried about or that seems to be giving him much bother. It’s more his head I’m worried about at the moment.”

"It'll come good, Bodie, but it's early days. I know he's a tough little bugger but he's gonna need a lot TLC. You stayin' with him?"

"Yes, mate, not that he'll be thanking me for it any time soon I don't think."

"And how are you coping yourself, Bodie?"

"Struggling, Murph, but I'll be okay. Just gonna have to face the fact it could be a bit of a rocky road is all."

"Well, we're all thinking of you both, mate, just shout if there's anything you need."

A message was delivered that Bodie was required back in Cowley's office and he left Murphy to go in search of his partner.

Doyle was already waiting outside the office and appeared more than ready to leave.

Bodie popped his head round the door and Cowley briefed him with his latest assignment.

"Two weeks off, Bodie, minimum. Stay with him, look after him and monitor him. Doctor Ross and I will keep in touch and after the two weeks we will take things from there."

For once, Bodie was relieved to not be in on the interrogations. The further he got from the case itself now the better. He had his assignment. His partner needed him.

On the way home, the partners stopped at Fine Fare.

The shopping expedition was not the best that Bodie had ever experienced. Normally an efficient and determined shopper, Doyle trailed after him absently picking up items and putting them down again. Fortunately, the supermarket was reasonably quiet as Bodie noticed his partner shy away from anyone who got too close to him.

Bodie collected enough staples to last them for the rest of the week and paid for the groceries when their time came at the till.

They made the journey through the driving rain to Doyle's flat, in near silence once again. Once inside, Bodie packed away their goods and switched on the kettle. Doyle looked pensive as if working up to say something.

"What is it, Sunshine?" enquired Bodie.

"Um, thanks for the shopping, I'll get to the bank sometime and then settle up with you."

"No problem, mate, I'm sure I'll help you eat at least half of it anyhow. You do it next time, eh?"

"Well that's the thing. Won't be a next time."

"Eh?"

"Well … um, look, Bodie. Thanks for last night, I really appreciate that, honest I do. Thing is, now, if you don't mind, I'd just like you to go."

"Eh? Go where?"

"Well I dunno do I? There must be better places you can think of being! Just ... go home or something. Go to the pub, go out with one of your birds, go anywhere you like, just ... go. I don't want you here anymore."

"Why not?"

"'Cos I don't need a fucking babysitter, Bodie, I'm thirty six years old in case you hadn't noticed."

"Er, Cowley says different mate and if he says stick to you like glue, then I stick."

"I'm not a bloody child that needs his nose wiped, Bodie!"

"Cowley said you need someone to stay with you for a while."

"Well get him to send somebody else then. Murph, Ruth, anyone, just not you!"

Bodie looked stunned.

"Don't you shut me out, Ray. Shout at me, fucking punch me if you feel like it, it's not like I don't fucking deserve it, just don't you DARE shut me out."

"Get it through your thick skull, Bodie, I don't bloody want you here!"

"WHY?"

Doyle's voice broke.

"Cos if you don't go right now, I might not want you to go ever!"

The fight going out of him, Doyle slumped into the kitchen chair and bunched his tear streaked face in his hands.

Bodie immediately went over to him and cradled him gently.

"Hey, mate, do you honestly think there's anywhere else I'd rather be right now? You're not the only one going through this, I need to be here as much as you need me to be. I'll never forgive myself for what's happened to you, but we've got to get through it somehow, Ray. Together. Like we always do."

Doyle was quiet for a minute as if wrestling with his own thoughts. A clap of thunder outside seemed to push him into coming some sort of decision. He spoke, shakily, but with more control.

"You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened, Bodie, it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was, Sunshine, I was there, I could have stopped all this."

"No you couldn't. You know how I work under those circumstances. You weren't even meant to be there."

"Yes but I was, wasn't I, just sitting there doing nothing, Ray!"

"It wasn't your fault, Bodie, it was mine."

"Oh here we go! I wondered when the famous Doyle guilt would make an appearance!"

"Bodie, it's true! I was an accident waiting to happen. If it hadn't happened to me yesterday it would still have happened sooner or later, I was only getting what I fucking deserved!"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Doyle grimaced realising he had said too much. In a small voice he answered.

"Please don't ask me, Bodie, please don't make me tell you."

"I think you're gonna have to, Sunshine."

"But it would mean things would change and I just don't think I could bear that."

"You can talk to me, Ray, you know you can."

"I don't want you to hate me, Bodie and you will if you make me tell you."

"Ray, I won't hate you, you daft bugger, what is it you've done, murder someone?"

"No, but you'll think it's worse than that."

"Come on, Ray you can tell me." said Bodie laying his hand over Doyle's.

Doyle quickly drew his hand away but lifted his eyes to look into Bodie's.

"Okay, I'll tell you. Just please remember, I never meant to hurt you okay?"

"Okay ..."

"Well … What you saw yesterday ... well I'm sorry you had to see that, but the truth is I ..."

"Go on ..."

"Well the truth is, what you saw yesterday, well that's not the first time I've had sex with another bloke. Not by a long way. Not ten at a time maybe, that would be something even for me. But certainly not the first time."

Bodie concentrated on keeping his face perfectly neutral and Doyle carried on.

"Truth is, I fancy men, Bodie. I fancy them and I sleep with them and sometimes I even fall in love with them. So there you go, I got EXACTLY what I deserved."

A huge thunder clap crashed over Doyle's little garden flat and the wind started to buffet the French doors. Somewhere in Bodie's mind, a penny dropped and with his face still blank, he quietly started to speak.

"Ray. You said you fancy men. Did you ever fancy me?"

Doyle's eyes dropped and his lips quivered.

Bodie had his answer.

Knowing that he had probably heard the last words that Bodie would ever speak to him, Doyle screwed his eyes up in anguish. Suddenly, a huge crash outside made both men jump.

"Oh shit." said Doyle flatly. "Bodie, however much you might despise me at the moment that was my bike going over. Any chance you could me help to get it back up again on your way out, my arms still aren't so good?"

Both men made for the door and out into the storm. Between them they struggled to right the Suzuki and Bodie re-lashed the tarpaulin. He turned after testing the final rope to see Doyle just standing there, facing away from him in the relentless rain. His hands were in his pockets and his face was buried into his collar. Bodie could see from the slight shaking of Doyle's shoulders that he was still crying.

Bodie went up behind him and stood close. Then he did something he felt that he'd wanted to do all his life. He drew back Doyle's dripping hair and gently kissed his neck. Doyle stiffened beneath him but Bodie slipped his arms around his partner’s waist and held him tightly until he felt him relax.

"Come on, Sunbeam, let’s get back indoors. Far too wet out here for this sort of thing."

He took Doyle's hand and led him back into the kitchen, shutting the doors on the rapidly encroaching night. He then stripped his stunned partner of his soaking windcheater and sat him back down.

Doyle still hadn't said anything, but his eyes were as big as saucers. Realisation suddenly dawned on him and with it came anger.

"Bloody hell, Bodie! I expected a lot of things from you, but I seriously never expected you to take the piss!"

"Wasn't taking the piss, Sunshine, just doing something I should have done years ago."

"But you're not bent, Bodie!"

"Says who?"

"You've never ever given any indication that you've got any interest in men!"

"Well neither have you."

"But you're always out with women!"

"So are you."

"Don't play with me, Bodie, you called Jason a 'fuckin little faggot'!"

Bodie chuckled. "That's because he is, Ray! There's a world of difference between fancyin' blokes and touting your arse all over London like he does."

"How do you know that I don't? At least that poor sod does it to put food in his mouth, I don't even have that excuse!"

"Look, Ray, I'm sorry. I know what I said about Jason and I know why he does what he does, but you know what my real problem with him was?"

"What, Bodie? What was your real problem with him?"

"I was fuckin' jealous of him you pillock!"

"What? What the fuck did you have to be jealous about?"

"Well for a start, he was getting to see a damn sight more of you than I was, and you can't tell me he wasn't after you, 'cos you know bloody well he was!"

"He's just a kid, Bodie. Okay so maybe he had a bit of a crush on me but why should that worry you?"

"Christ, Ray you can be dense. Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes, I think you'd better!"

"I'm in love with you, you fuckin' idiot, I always have been!"

"Don't talk like a prick, Bodie, of course you're not!"

"Oh really? And how do you work that one out then?"

"Well ... well for one thing, I'm used bloody goods now aren't I?"

"Don't you ever let me hear you talk like that again! What happened yesterday wasn't your fault, unless you're saying you wanted it to happen?"

"No of course I didn't, but that doesn't mean it didn't. I'll be lucky if anyone ever wants me again!"

"Doyle?"

"What?"

"Shut up and come ‘ere."

Doyle went.

"Good. Now any more pearls of wisdom, because I'm just about to kiss you."

Doyle opened his mouth then abruptly shut it again. Tentatively, Bodie stroked the side of his face then gently cupped it in both his hands. Moving in closer, he leant in and gently brushed Doyle's lips with his own. Trembling slightly, Doyle just stared at him, unresponsive. Desperately hoping that he hadn't got it all terribly wrong when his friend was so vulnerable, Bodie leant in for another go. This time, Doyle lit up like a firework and returned the kiss like a starving man given food.

~~~oOo~~~

Cowley was in conference with Kate Ross and Jack Crane.

As usual, Ross was playing devil’s advocate.

"I'm still not sure that placing 4~5 in 3~7's care is such a good idea."

Cowley was getting irritated, they were going round in circles.

"Miss Ross, they are partners. Bodie is probably the only person that Doyle IS able to trust right now."

Crane interjected.

"For heaven's sake, they depend on each other every day for their very lives. All Bodie's got to do is make sure he eats, sleeps and takes his pills. It's hardly work compared to what they normally do is it?"

"Besides," added Cowley, "It's not as if they don't spend an awful lot of their free time in each other’s company as it is."

Doctor Ross sighed, these men just weren't getting it.

"Yes but now we're forcing them into each other’s company. Don't you see the pressure that could cause? We know how Bodie feels about Doyle, and you know of my suspicions that Bodie has been the victim of sexual assault in the past. That could open up all sorts of old wounds for him."

"Miss Ross! On the record, we know neither of these things. It’s all supposition. I can only act on facts!"

"Are you suggesting Mr. Cowley that Bodie is _not_ besotted with Ray Doyle?"

"My opinion on that matter is irrelevant. Whether he is or he isn't, it doesn't impact on their daily work, he still acts in a professional manner and Doyle doesn't seem to have any complaints."

"And what if we have another King Billy incident? What if Bodie tries to seek vengeance for those who assaulted Doyle?"

"That, Miss Ross is the reason I'm trying to get convictions and sentencing wrapped up as soon as possible."

"Kate's right, Sir, even once they're inside they won’t be safe from Bodie."

"Well that's his own lookout. For the moment he should have his hands full enough taking care of 4~5."

"Is that why you granted Doyle indefinite leave but told Bodie two weeks?"

"Indeed, doctor. I admit I was hoping to take some of the wind out of Bodie's sails. I do hope that if all his concentration is focused on caring for his partner, any immediate plans for vengeance that he harbours might be curtailed."

"Sir, do you really think Doyle will come back from this?"

"To be brutally honest, Jack, no I don't. Not in the same capacity as before anyway, and he's not the sort of man that would settle for anything less."

"You realise, Mr. Cowley that if you lose 4~5, you will inevitably lose 3~7 as well?"

"Sadly, I do, Miss Ross, I've known that now for several years. However, they're my men. They're good men and they're brave men and the country owes them a huge debt. I'd hate to lose them, but they have fifteen years’ service in this organisation between them. That's not bad odds in their line of work.

If Doyle decides to quit the squad, it would be callous of me to ask Bodie to work with another partner now. It would be foolhardy to ask him to work as a solo agent. He has his own mind of course, but it's the off the record 'knowledge' that I'm considering. If I can see to it that they leave the squad, should they want to of course, with as few problems and as many benefits as possible, then I will do so."

Crane looked thoughtful.

"Kate, what in your professional opinion, is the best way that we can help Doyle at the moment?"

Sighing, she replied.

"Leave it to Bodie."

~~~oOo~~~

"You meant it didn't you, Bodie. You weren't kidding me."

"I don't kid about things like this, Ray."

"Take me to bed then, please?"

"Christ, talk about bad timing! How the hell do you expect me to do that after what happened yesterday?"

"I don't need that in my mind Bodie. I need it gone. Take it away from me, please?"

“That would just be plain stupid, Ray. For God’s sake, you’ve just been raped!”

“I don’t really need reminding of the fact, Bodie!”

“I think perhaps you do! If we did anything now, you’d probably end up hating me or I could hurt you or … or anything could happen. This is crazy! Surely you can see that?

“I need you, Bodie. I need you and I want you. You can do this for me. I want to be able to be me again. Only you can do that for me, no one else, only you. Take me to bed, Bodie. Please.”

Doyle was breathy and ethereal and as beautiful as Bodie had ever seen him. Bodie couldn't have refused him had someone had a gun pressed against his head. They made for the bedroom, mindlessly shedding clothes along the way.

Doyle was the first to fall back onto the bed but Bodie shook his head.

"No, Ray, not like that, I just can't. I've wanted this for so long, but there's no way I can just take you like that."

"Have you done this much before?"

"Er, a bit as it happens."

"Good. Shut up and kiss me then. I've found I rather like it."

Bodie complied and started to gently kiss Doyle from head to foot, thrilled at his partner exerting his will. He purposely ignored Doyle's growing erection on the way down but didn't have strength to ignore it on the way back up. Almost shyly, he took Doyle's cock into his mouth and it was seconds before he felt that he'd come home. He sucked Doyle's cock in wholeheartedly. He wasn't prepared to tease. If there was one thing that Ray could use right now it was a decent ejaculation, and Bodie was more than happy to be the cause of it. Doyle's body quivered beneath him and Bodie revelled in the response. he sucked until Doyle's cock touched the very back of his throat making him gag pleasurably.

All of a sudden, Doyle stilled.

"No, Bodie, not like this!"

Bodie's heart fell into his boots.

Doyle looked back at him and realised what he was thinking.

"No I don't want you to stop you idiot, I want you to fuck me!"

"Ray, don't be stupid, I can't, you know I can't do that to you."

"What not up to it then, big boy?"

Bodie didn't want to ruin the mood, but he couldn't let this carry on. Knowing a bucket of iced water was about to douse their excitement, he quietly spoke anyway.

"Ray, you were raped just yesterday."

"Well I should be nice and loosened up for you then shouldn't I? Don't tell me you don't know what you’re doin' 'cos I just found out different. Come on, Bodie, stuff's by the bed."

Bodie looked over to see the pot of salve prescribed by the doctor.

'Filthy little bugger!' he thought to himself with glee, starting to kiss down every vertebrae of Doyle's spine. With every kiss, to every bone, Doyle bucked a little urging him onto the coccyx.

Bodie was still uncertain, wondering if he could possibly stop himself if all hell should suddenly break lose. Once again, Doyle seemed to read his mind.

"Fuck me, Bodie. If you say you love me, fuck me with all the love you can give me."

Bodie didn't need asking twice. He slipped his engorged cock into the dark entrance of Ray's body and it disappeared towards heaven.

Doyle suddenly wailed making Bodie cringe again.

"Shit, what if I'm diseased, Bodie!?"

"Well if you are, then I've just caught it too, sweetheart!"

Doyle relaxed again and Bodie pushed forward into him, his cock searching for its promised home. The tip of Bodie's penis grazed Doyle's prostrate. With just a moment’s shame, Doyle threw his head back in ecstasy. This was Bodie. He loved Bodie. He had always loved Bodie and now Bodie was making love to him. Like he had dreamed about for years.

Bodie had reached round and was handling Doyle's cock like it was an old friend. The dual stimulation was too much for Doyle and he came in gushes over Bodie's fist seconds before Bodie erupted into him. In exhaustion, they collapsed into each other.

Neither spoke at all. Suddenly, Bodie felt more alone, bereft and used than he ever had before in his life.

As always, Doyle sensed his partner’s mood.

"Thanks, Bodie. I love you so damn much!"

He hadn't said it before and it felt good to get it out.

Bodie smiled at him and Doyle swore afterwards that tears were forming in Bodie's eyes.

"Love you too, Sunshine, always have".

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle woke to a world of warmth, tucked into the crook of Bodie's arm.

Shafts of early morning sunlight confirmed that the storm had passed and a beautiful spring day was starting.

Doyle flicked his eyes up to look directly into Bodie's, who had been smiling down at him for the past ten minutes.

Ray smiled back happily.

"Mornin'. And just what may I ask, are you starin’ at?"

"You, Raymond. You're all hair and eyes at this time of day, aren't you? Just like a bush baby."

"Like a what?"

"You know, those little creatures that live in trees and come out at night."

"God, Bodie you're a moron aren't you!"

"Yep, but you love me anyway."

Doyle's face broke out into a beatific smile.

"Yes, I do don't I. Come 'ere."

The joy of waking up to one of Bodie's kisses was something that Doyle thought he would never get enough of.

"Did last night really happen, Ray?"

"Um, hold on a minute."

Doyle squirmed a little, a look of concentration on his face.

"Er, yep definitely happened, mate!"

"Oh Christ, I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, Bodie, you didn't hurt me, just don't think I'll be doing any horse riding today. Was quite incredible if you must know."

"Only 'quite'?"

"Okay, it was bloody incredible, and well you know it, stop fishing for compliments."

"Sorry." Bodie chuckled.

"Can always try earning some more compliments though, if you like."

"Mmmm, don't mind if I do!" said Bodie his hand reaching for Doyle's cock.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, it was rock hard.

"Always like this first thing in the morning is it?"

"Why, isn't yours?"

"Take a look for yourself."

Bodie spread his legs wide in invitation and Doyle rolled onto his tummy to lie between them.

"Oh dear, Bodie, looks like you have a bit of a problem there doesn't it. Best see what we can do about that, hadn't we?"

Doyle looked up into Bodie's face, winked and then took Bodie's cock into his mouth. The expert teasing and sucking brought Bodie to the brink almost immediately.

"Done that before haven't you, sweetheart?"

Doyle let the organ slip from his mouth though he kept his hand wrapped possessively around it.

"Mmm, once or twice."

"Doyle."

Doyle froze instantly, thinking he had done something wrong.

"What?"

Bodie gave him a tiny smile.

"Stuff's by the bed."

"You sure?"

"Never surer, but please don't hang about, old thing, there's a good chap."

"Your wish is my command, Sire." mimicked Doyle reaching for the salve.

"P'raps we should use KY, Ray you're not gonna have any left for your wrists at this rate."

"Ah, beauty of using this, old son," panted Doyle, lining his cock up against the opening to Bodie’s body, "Is that as soon as you get sore, it makes you all better again."

"Ah, better get back down the hospital and get 'em to prescribe you a job lot then."

"Not a bad idea, Bodie, NOT a bad idea at all." said Doyle pushing forward.

"Ahhhhhhhh, Ray, Oh sweet Jesus, that's good!"

Doyle pushed on, picking up a rhythm. He slipped his still greased hand between them to lightly encircle Bodie and matched his thrusts with pulls on Bodie's cock.

"Oh my God I'm gonna come, Ray, harder, fuck me harder!"

The thrusts and the friction were suddenly too much for him and with a huge shudder that seemed to start from his feet, he came like a steam train, with Doyle following into the abyss only seconds later. For the next few minutes, all that could be heard was exhausted panting.

"Bloody hell!" said Doyle groggily. "The last time I breathed that hard, I'd just defused a bomb!"

"Certainly exploded inside me, mate."

"Er, yes, sorry hold on I'll get us something to clean up with."

"Don't you move a muscle for a minute, I just wanna look at you."

"Why?"

"'Cos you've got that 'just fucked' look that I find really rather attractive."

"Fool."

"Yep. Your fool though."

"Oh yeah. My daft, horny, gorgeous, perfect fool. You've made me so happy, Bodie. Thanks."

"Shut up you sentimental idiot."

"Me?"

"Yes you. You must be going soft, Doyle. It's before eight o'clock in the morning and you haven't groused at me once yet!"

"Careful what you wish for, Sunshine."

Bodie smiled at him and leant in for another kiss.

~~~oOo~~~

The first week alone with Bodie was a balm to Doyle’s soul. They seemed as perfectly attuned to a life of domesticity as they ever had been as partners on the street, and Doyle revelled in it.

The one low point in his day however, was when Bodie made or received a call from HQ. He made himself scarce during the calls and though he was desperate to know what was being said about himself, it didn't occur to him to eavesdrop. In fact the more he thought about CI5, Cowley, Ross and the thought of returning to active duty, the more uncomfortable he felt.

He seldom let himself think about the Mossman case or the rapes. He and Bodie made love as often as the mood took them, which was frequently and it did seem that Bodie had helped to exorcise his demons.

Bodie felt awkward during the telephone conversations, often having little to report that wouldn't expose the change in their relationship. The one thing Doctor Ross kept banging on about was Ray's disinclination to discuss the ordeal he had been through. Quietly, Bodie agreed with her. It was dangerous to keep feelings about something that horrendous bottled up. Bodie had kept similar feelings bottled up for years and it had never done him much good. Nevertheless, Ray appeared happy, and Bodie didn't want to burst his bubble of contentment with talk of such awful things.

He had a wary feeling however, that the events that had happened in Waverley House weren't dealt with by a long chalk and he dreaded what might happen when they were.

The second week of Doyle's sick leave was not so easy.

The end of Bodie's special leave was getting closer. Doyle had no wish to be left at home on his own and hated the thought of Bodie returning to work. He felt under enormous pressure to return himself. The thought of Bodie going into active service without his partner sickened him. The thought of going back to the streets himself distressed him even more. He tried to ignore the problem, but often found himself still awake into the early hours considering it.

Doyle had to face facts. He had lost his nerve. He could just about accept what had happened to him. Had he not accepted the assignment, it would have fallen to Bodie and Doyle had never seen Bodie shirk a job yet. Images of Bodie being the party model haunted his mind, causing nightmares at night and moodiness by day.

Towards the end of the second week, Bodie frequently left Doyle on his own. It had been Doctor Ross who had suggested he do so, concerned that Doyle was building an unhealthy dependence on his presence. Sometimes Bodie would simply take a quick run to the corner shop. More often he went into HQ. During these trips, Doyle was desolate. Anything could happen at a moment’s notice. A bomb threat. A kidnap. A murder. Even when Bodie had been on sick leave the time his hand was injured, he'd still managed to find himself in the company of a band of international terrorists. Trouble usually found Bodie without him having to go looking for it. Doyle knew that if Bodie was on the premises when something went off, he would never refuse Cowley his help, special leave or not.

Doyle knew he wouldn't be able to live like this. He loved Bodie to distraction, but the thought of waiting for him to come safely home to him at night was incomprehensible. Doyle would crack up within a month. He was also sure that he could not return to CI5 himself. He had fucked up there big time, in front of his friends and colleagues no less. How would they ever see him now but that poor bastard who got dicked by all those blokes that time?

Doyle knew what he had to do. He owed Bodie so much and the only way he could truly pay him back, was for Bodie to be rid of him in order to carry on with his own life.

Doyle phoned HQ and made an appointment to speak with Cowley the following Monday.

~~~oOo~~~

"Sorry, Sir, I know what you and the squad have tried to do for me, but I feel I have no option but to hand you my resignation."

"That was rather controlled for you, 4~5 considering your normal fits of pique when tendering your resignations! I apologise, I was being flippant, crass of me. On this occasion however, I understand your reasons and am inclined to agree with you."

"Thank you, Sir." Doyle said sadly.

"That is not to say however, that I am willing to accept your resignation; not immediately at least."

Doyle dropped his head back and rolled his eyes.

"Three months, Doyle. I'll give you three months, the normal time required from you as a period of notice. I won't be asking you to perform actively during that time, but I do recommend that you concentrate on your fitness levels as if you were still on duty.

Before the end of the term, I wish you to have a thorough evaluation with Doctor Ross. If she pronounces you fit for A squad duties, then you are free, if you still wish, to resign and immediately walk out of here. If however, she thinks that your capacity to do the job for which you have been trained is impaired due to the things that you have experienced, I will have no choice but to have you medically retired. This would mean you getting immediate benefits, being able to draw a government pension early, being able to remain in accommodations for an extended period of time and so on.

You can of course, claim a case for medical severance now should you wish. Alternatively, should you at the end of the three month period find that you have changed your mind, your case will be considered and you can ask to be re-assessed."

"Um, thank you, Sir. Is there any chance I could just forgo the evaluation and just leave at the end of the three months?"

"No Doyle, there is not."

"So I'm not allowed to just resign. How do you swing that one then?"

"Because the evaluation happens before the end of the three months whilst you are still in my employ, Doyle."

"But I'm not ill, Sir, at least I don't feel it. Getting pensioned out would make me feel like a fraud."

"Doyle, were you content in your work before the events of the Mossman op?"

"Yes, Sir I believe I was."

"So it is reasonable to assume it is from that operation that your current discontent stems?"

"To be perfectly honest, Sir, this has been building for a while. I've often kept myself awake at night with the thought that I only stay in for the sake of watching Bodie's back. I've no real love for the job now. I've seen too much, felt too much. If it wasn't for looking after Bodie, I'da probably walked a long time ago. That's not the sort of commitment you need from me, is it?"

"I appreciate your frankness, Doyle, though your reply's nothing less than I would expect from an agent of your long standing. My instruction still stands however, three months."

"If you insist, Sir. There's just one thing I might ask of you though."

"If I see fit to be able to help you, I will do. What is it, Doyle?"

"Don't tell Bodie, Sir. Least not until I've gone. Knowing about me leaving might affect his career and I really don't want that to happen."

"As I said, Doyle I will help you as I see fit."

"Thank you, Sir."

Doyle shook the old man's hand and left the office.

Cowley removed his glasses and swung them from their arm absently.

He didn't see fit.

He picked up the telephone receiver and dialled the number of Doyle's flat.

"Ah, Bodie. Can you come in to see me at your earliest convenience, 4~5 has just resigned."

~~~oOo~~~

"So as I understand it, if Doyle leaves CI5 you won't be far behind him, Bodie?"

"You understand correctly, Sir."

"Reasons, Bodie. Have you any to offer me?"

"Well, Sir, to be honest, I've stayed with this organisation at lot longer than I have some others. I appreciate the chance to have been a part of it and I do feel that we’ve done some good. However, over the last year or two, I feel that I've stayed in purely because of Doyle. I know that my primary concern is to look out for my partner, but frankly, that’s become my only concern. I'm sorry to have let you down, Sir but his welfare has become paramount to me and I don't believe that's in the best interests of you or this organisation."

"I appreciate your frankness, Bodie, though your reply's nothing less than I would expect from an agent of your long standing.

I've given Doyle three months. I hope at the end of that time he will take up my offer of retirement on medical grounds; it will heartily be in his favour.

As you seem to have every intention of leaving with him, I won't be expecting you to carry out active duties in the next three months. You'll probably be wanting the time to organise your futures. If you wish, you can be seconded to the B squad so that will have the time needed to make such arrangements. I take it from our prior conversations that you still have little idea what you’ll do next?"

"No, Sir. I hadn't wanted to think about it until I was sure of Doyle's plans."

"You're intent on the two of you finding some sort of work together?"

"We're partners, Sir. I'll turn my hand to anything and I know that he would as well. At the end of the day, I'll do anything in my power to make sure that he's looked after. He's my partner, my responsibility and to be honest with you, I'm kind of used to having him around."

"So do you think you might wish to continue working in the security services? Pool your resources and knowledge for the greater good?"

"Not necessarily, Sir. What happened as a result of the Mossman op could have broken Ray and me with it if truth be told. I'd hate for him to be put at that sort of risk again."

"And you really wouldn't mind what you did, as long as you were both relatively safe? You wouldn't miss the military style that has shaped your life into what it is now?"

"A lot of the positions I secured for myself were from necessity rather than choice, Sir. I didn't have any sort of master plan when I was I was a kid. In fact had I not left home when I did, I would probably have ended up becoming a docker like my father was. I've grown up, Sir. Whilst I'd rather not become a docker to be honest with you, there are plenty of other things I could do which don't involve in getting shot at and seeing my friends hurt all the time."

"Well it's just a thought, and you might think it a ridiculous one, 3~7, but I have an idea ..."

~~~oOo~~~

When Bodie returned to the flat, he was somewhat unsurprised to find that for the second time that month, his partner has disappeared.

In all, it took three hours for Bodie to find Doyle. After trawling most of their haunts both old and new, a despondent Bodie fell exhausted into The Sallyport Arms, one of Doyle's old beat establishments. His feet almost stuck to the floor as soon as he walked in.

Doyle was sitting in a darkened corner nursing a pint of watery beer. On seeing him, Bodie reached out a hand and then grasped him into an embrace. Such a move could easily get them both killed in a place such as this, but the look that Bodie gave the other patrons warned them off immediately.

"Come on, Sunshine, home now."

There was little likelihood of Doyle getting drunk on anything this pub served, but he was still glad of Bodie's helping hand guiding him outside. Bodie bundled him into the car and drove him home.

"Bodie, I take it Cowley's spoken to you?"

"Well he's given me my latest assignment if that's what you mean, yes."

"Which is what, Bodie if I'm allowed to ask that is?"

"We're going on our holidays, Sunshine!"

Doyle's heart sank. Cowley obviously wasn't going to play fair and Doyle didn't even know the rules of the game yet.

"Where we off to then?"

"All in good time, Raymond. You must be tired after all that running away, after all."

Doyle let his eyes drop to the floor.

"Sorry, Bodie. I just don't want to hurt you, that's all. Seems whatever I do, I'm going to and that's killing me."

"Come on, to bed with you. Let’s leave all the problems for another day, you look done in."

Bodie got his love safely to bed and then lay down himself. He didn't sleep for a long time. Ray was pulling away from him and he didn't know if he could stop it happening. You could try and grab hold of what you wanted to keep, but water could flow through your clenched fingers in an instant. Was Ray going to flow away from him? Could Bodie keep hold of him and should he even try? He was so close to having everything he had ever dreamed of, but somehow, he feared that his heart was about to be broken.

~~~oOo~~~

Doyle could pack his gear in ten minutes when going on an op. When going away for recreation however he was totally lost.

"Mate, it really isn't helping me one bit not knowing where we're going."

"Well you won't need your passport, Ray."

"Yeah but that could include Scotland and I know it's bloody cold there."

"It's not Scotland, Ray, nor Wales even, not they're holiday destinations in my opinion anyway."

"You're being no help, Bodie."

"Oh for heaven’s sake, we're just going away for a pleasant week in the English countryside. Pack accordingly, it can't be that hard.

Oh and take your paints."

"Me what?"

"Paints, Ray. You know, those wishy washy ones"

"Watercolours you mean?"

"Yep that's them."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Bodie, I wouldn't even know where to find 'em! Last painting I did was that time I emulsioned out that flat you were put in."

"Oh Christ yeah, I'd forgotten about that," laughed Bodie, remembering the olive hovel that accommodations had put him in three years before.

Nevertheless, Doyle searched an overstuffed cupboard until he found the long forgotten paint box and he tossed it into his case.

Within an hour, they'd shut up the flat and were on the road.

Bodie's mood was as sunny as the weather which inexplicably, seemed to royally irritate Doyle.

"What exactly is this big idea of suddenly going off on holiday then? Not like Cowley to give you time off on a whim is it? Surely you should be getting back to active status now? You've done your duty nurse maiding me after all."

"Thou shall not question the word of The Cow, Raymond. P'raps he feels like we've earned ourselves a little jaunt. Not like we haven't had one total shit of a year already is it?"

"Doesn't normally bloody worry 'im." Doyle grumped.

"Oh come on, Ray. We gotta whole week, on expenses, out of London, no phone, no R/T, no Cowley, no worries. Lighten up and try and to at least look as though you're enjoying yourself!"

As they ate up the miles and left London behind, Doyle's mood did seem to lift. Towns became villages, which in turn became hamlets and for long stretches they saw nothing at all but wide swathes of open countryside.

At a little after one, they stopped just outside Cambridge in search of a late breakfast.

"So how much further have we got to go then?" Doyle asked mopping up his last bit of fried egg.

"We're about halfway there I recon."

Doyle looked thoughtful doing calculations in his head.

"So another couple of hours then?"

“‘Bout an hour and a half if we carry on at this rate, I should imagine."

Doyle knew that Bodie had no intention of telling him where they were going, so he gave up fishing.

They paid the bill, left the little cafe and headed the car for the A10.

Once again, the landscape became green and rural. The weather was glorious and it was so warm that Bodie had opened the Capri's sunroof.

To his surprise, Doyle felt himself relaxing and within a few miles the gentle rumble of the wheels beneath them lulled him into a doze. He felt surprisingly refreshed when he woke an hour later and looked around him with interest. They were deep in the countryside now and his artist’s eye appreciated the simple beauty of it all.

"Back with us then, Raymond?"

"Sorry, mate, must have dozed off for a bit then. Are we nearly there yet?"

Bodie chuckled. "Yes, Ray, we're nearly there. Welcome to Norfolk!"

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie pulled over and consulted his map. They drove for a further twenty minutes along peaceful roads until Bodie slowed, looking for his destination. Turning when he saw the sign, he brought the car to a halt for a moment and just sat and stared. Doyle removed his sunglasses. He looked around him in awe. Crowding in on either side of them was an acre of shimmering bluey green stems. Driving down the track through the lavender was like travelling through two parting seas.

At the end of the track was a more ornate sign announcing their arrival at 'Lavender Cottage Nursery'. A man saw them drive up and hurried over to them.

"Hello, and welcome, are you here for the cottage, or the nursery? I can show you where to park."

"Er, the cottage thanks." Bodie replied.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Bodie! I’m Alex Sutherland. Wonderful to meet you! Put her down on that gravel over there for a minute. The parking for the cottage is just around the corner, but it might be easier to walk you round there first so that you know where you're going."

Bodie parked up and the partners exited the car. Doyle got his first proper look at Alex Sutherland and did a double take. As he shook the man’s hand making his own introductions, he looked into the hazel eyes of one of the most beautiful looking men he had ever seen.

"You're a couple of months early for the lavender I'm afraid. Come back in June or July and the whole place will be purple. It's quite spectacular when you see it for the first time.

Would you like the guided tour now or would you like to get settled in first?"

Bodie looked at Doyle enquiringly. Doyle shrugged.

"I'm easy."

"Ok, chaps, quick tour of the place, then we'll finish up at the cottage and I'll show you where you can put the car."

Doyle didn't quite know what to make of Sutherland. He was one of those people you instantly warmed to, friendly, open and immensely likeable. Bodie also seemed to have fallen under his spell and was listening to him avidly.

Alex kept up a running commentary along the way explaining the history of the place.

"Lavender's been grown in England since the 14th century. This was all originally part of a much larger working farm years ago in my Great Grandfathers time. It was him that started to grow lavender as a commercial venture. Over the years, bits of the place have been sold off to neighbouring properties since various family members have left to seek their own fortunes.

Even in my own lifetime, I remember the place producing far more than it does now. We used to have apple orchards and grow soft fruit and root vegetables. However, you need a larger premises to make any real money at that nowadays which means needing a lot more staff.

I'm an only child and my own parents downsized the place considerably so that we could run it more as a family concern. The main staples of the business were always the nursery and the lavender. We don't make a fortune you understand, but we turn enough of a profit to enjoy a comfortable enough life.

There are three permanent staff apart from myself. There are the two ladies that run the shop, the profits from which more or less pay their wages. And we have our head nursery man, Finn. He's only got six months to go before he retires. We take on casual staff throughout the year but apart from that, it’s just me."

Sutherland led the partners into the first of three large greenhouses.

"This is the seeding area. Everything we sell in the nursery starts off here. We sell all sorts. Everything from houseplants to large shrubs. This is where a lot of the work takes place. Planting seeds and then potting them on is tedious, but it's work that can be done in the warm and dry and eventually yields a good profit so it's worthwhile. The second greenhouse is the growing on area for more mature specimens and the third is the sales area. All the plants in there are on display and available for sale to the public.

The lavender looks after itself more or less. We grow four different varieties and have separate customers for each type. They all buy it for different purposes. Some want it for cut flowers, others want it to make things from such as oils and soaps. This is handy as it means that harvest time doesn't all come at once, we can cut it at different times of the year.

The green Portakabin over there is the office and beyond that, the shop. We'll visit that at a later time when it’s closed. The ladies would love to meet you, but it will be better when there are no customers in there with them. You're here all week so there's no hurry."

Doyle was surprised at how much the man had shared of himself in so short a period of time, but somehow found himself fascinated by everything that Sutherland had to say. Even Bodie seemed absorbed by what their host was telling them, and a garden centre was possibly the last place that Doyle could imagine Bodie being interested in. Doyle followed Sutherland onwards, his eyes dropping southwards. ‘Mmm, nice arse too!’ he thought to himself.

“Okay, gentlemen, onto the cottage. We renovated the place five years ago not long after my father died. My mother now lives in the village with her sister who's become rather frail I'm afraid.

In effect this is my home, but the intention with the renovation was to use it as a self-catering cottage as often as possible. It was the one side of the business that never really took off, sadly. We do get some interest, but there are ample opportunities for bed and breakfast around here and two years ago they built a big chain hotel just outside the village. They take most of the bookings round here now unfortunately. I'm not overly concerned. It gave me a good excuse to do the place up without upsetting my mother too much. When we have guests here, I also go and stay with her which pleases her enormously.

Right, chaps, I needn't come in with you, everything including the heating system is self-explanatory enough. I've left some basic groceries for you, bread, eggs, tea etcetera. When you need to shop there's a place in the village that can supply everything you need. It's in walking distance. However, if you're watching the cost, you might be better off taking the car to Tesco’s. I've sketched out a basic map for you but nothing's really too hard to find around here. Don't buy your eggs in Tesco however, if you want more of them, go and knock on that red door over there."

The partners followed Sutherland's pointing finger and could just about make out the nearest house with its red front door.

"That's our nearest neighbour, Annie. Best eggs for sale around here and it only takes a few minutes along the track down there. Believe you me, you'll wish she lived a lot further away when her cockerel wakes you up, but the best eggs you'll ever taste, guaranteed!

There are three pubs, all within minimum staggering distance. The Half Moon is the best for real ale. The Fleet Fox the best for food, though they all serve it. And if it's local gossip you're after you best visit The White Horse!"

"I think I might just have landed in Heaven." muttered Bodie.

"Right I better get on chaps, I'm about should you need me, till about six. Anything you need, just give us a shout. Enjoy your stay!"

Sutherland gave a smile which somehow Doyle thought was intended solely for Bodie. They took the keys, Bodie fetched the car and they let themselves into their temporary new home.

As soon as he got inside the pretty cottage, Doyle's jaw dropped. The outside facade had suggested the Elizabethan era, the bricks being little bigger than tiles and the window frames small and dark. The inside was fabulous. The spacious kitchen diner had been fitted out with wooden units, a huge butler sink, a scrubbed pine table and a Rayburn oven. Bodie flicked the light switch in the fading light and spotlights twinkled from the cottages original beams. A tiny potted lavender plant was sat on the window sill.

Walking through, they came to the lounging area which contained plush seating and was equipped with a TV and video recorder.

They made their way up the oak staircase to inspect the four bedrooms which also still retained their beams and were decorated beautifully.

The bathroom was like something Doyle had never seen before. It was tastefully done in white tiles which occasionally sported motives of tiny lavender flowers, similar to the ones in the kitchen. There was huge bath with an overhead shower, a large sink, and a matching toilet and bidet.

"Flippin' 'eck Bodie, this is amazing! Look there's a bloody bidet. I've always fancied tryin' one of them!"

"Somehow don't think you'll be needing that, Sunshine."

"Eh, what do you mean?"

"Get your arse in that bedroom and you might just find out!"

Doyle took himself off to the bedroom slightly despondent. If this was his chosen method of getting out of Bodie's life, it wasn't panning out very well.

"Now stand very still Raymond, cos I'm gonna take all your clothes off. Slowly. And while I'm doing it, I'm going to kiss you. Everywhere."

Doyle stared at him mesmerised and slowly, Bodie began. He started with the plaid shirt, stealing a kiss as the new inches of flesh were revealed. When he got low enough, he found each nipple in turn and flicked his tongue over them before sucking them into his mouth making Doyle gasp.

Teasingly, he slowly undid Doyle's belt and flies before expertly tipping him onto the bed onto his stomach. He then started to strip him from the other end. Each sock was removed and each toe kissed. Each jean clad leg was kissed on the way up and when he got to the top, Bodie carefully drew the jeans down over Doyle's hips and kissed the back of each leg all over again. Bodie knelt between his spread eagled legs and gently nipped his bottom through the fabric of his pants. In one movement, he then swooped forwards brushed Doyle's hair aside and kissed the back of his neck. Doyle hissed, loving the feeling of Bodie there, but Bodie was off again giving each arm and hand attention before returning to the top of his back. He then proceeded to lick his way down Doyle's spine until Doyle was bucking beneath him. Only the pants remained and Bodie carefully started to remove them. Doyle had a straining erection and Bodie had no wish to hurt him.

The sudden image of a knife flashed into Doyle's mind and he savagely banished it. He wouldn't let ugly thoughts like that taint time spent with Bodie.

Bodie flung the pants away and settled himself between Doyle's spread thighs. Gently raising Doyle's hips with his hands, he brought Doyle's backside up close to his face and once again started to nip and kiss at his buttocks. Doyle was breathing hard and raised himself onto his elbows so that Bodie was now able to reach around and loosely take his cock. Staring at Doyle's arse appreciatively, he then leant forward and gave his anus an experimental lick. Doyle's hips bucked once and Bodie fell in love with him all over again. Gripping onto his hips, Bodie plunged his face in between the beautiful buttocks in front of him, his mouth hungry for as much of Doyle as he could get.

Doyle froze. The last person to do this to him was Jason, on the worst day of his life. He concentrated on steadying himself and clearing his mind.

Bodie noticed the slight wilt in the erection and stopped for a minute to let Doyle get through it. He then tentatively continued and the hard on came roaring back to life. Smiling to himself, he started to rhythmically fuck Doyle with his tongue until Doyle was nearly screaming.

"For God's sake, Bodie fuck me please, NOW." Bodie didn't need telling twice and slipped his own straining cock into Doyle’s waiting arse.

It didn't take long. They came together in a cacophony of cries and moans, collapsing into each other in a muddled heap.

Finally coming to, Bodie looked down at the curly head resting on his chest.

"You okay?"

"Mmmmm."

"You sure? You flipped out on me a bit back there didn't you?"

Doyle looked up at him sheepishly.

"Sorry, mate. I'm okay now, honest."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really, Bodie, I don't even want to think about it."

"Well something set you off and I don't ever want to be the one that upsets you or brings it all back."

"It wasn't you, Bodie. It just brought on a few flashbacks that's all. It ... it was Jason ..."

Bodie swallowed, closing his eyes tightly in realisation.

"Are you telling me that Walsh also did that to you?"

"Yes, Bodie, he did." replied Doyle quietly.

"That fucking little bastard, I should have shot him as well!"

"It wasn't his fault, Bodie! He was just acting on Mossman's orders like he always did. He was as much a victim in as anyone else. Yes, I hate him and if I never see him again it'll be too soon, but I can't forget that he risked his life to save mine, although God knows sometimes I wished he hadn't bothered!"

"Hey, hey, come on, Ray, please don't say that sweetheart. I'm sorry, I'm just angry that's all but not with you and not with Jason really. Don't you think that you should talk to someone about all this? It can't be any good you keeping it inside yerself can it?"

"Talking to you aren't I?"

"Yeah but only because I virtually forced you into it and I'm not trained to help you in things like this am I? Christ knows, I could make things even worse."

"Look, Bodie I'll be okay. When we get back, I'm gonna start running again. Cowley said I should get my fitness levels back up and he's right. I been gettin' slack over the last few weeks and that's just making me feel worse about meself. I just need a good kick up the arse and then to bloody well get on with it. It'll be okay, you'll see. Now we're s’posed to be on our holidays for God's sake, let’s go and enjoy 'em eh?"

Bodie wasn't in the least bit convinced, but he let it lie. If anyone deserved this break then it was Ray, and who was Bodie to make him feel any worse about himself than he already did? He had the worrying feeling however, that sooner or later the dam would break, and when it did, they might all well drown.

~~~oOo~~~

The partners showered in the luxurious bathroom and took themselves downstairs to inspect their supplies.

Sutherland had been thoughtful in providing them, but they nevertheless decided to call in at the village shop before visiting the pub. A couple of bottles of wine would make welcome additions to their provisions.

They found the shop easily and were surprised to find that its opening hours extended until eleven at night. The tiny village also boasted Chinese, Indian and fish and chip takeaways as well as the three pubs which surprised them both.

"Wouldn't have thought there were enough residents to warrant all this would you?" commented Bodie, "Not that I'm complaining of course!"

"Yeah they certainly seem to have their priorities sorted out here in the country, don't they?"

They added wine, beer, bacon and fruit to their hoard and paid the pleasant woman at the till.

"Long hours you seem to keep here for such a quiet place." Bodie remarked to her.

"Ah, you'd be surprised Sir! There's always someone up with the lark wanting their newspaper, and always someone rolling out of the pub of a night that has a sudden fancy for a pork pie!

Holidaying are you?"

"Yes we're staying at Lavender Cottage."

"Ah Alex's place! Lovely young man, that one, you won't go far wrong with him."

'Oh Christ.' thought Doyle to himself, 'The bloke's got fans everywhere!'

The partners returned their wares to the cottage, donned sports jackets and made off to the first of the three pubs. Bodie had been lulled by the promised real ale of The Half Moon, and wasn't disappointed. They spent a pleasant three hours, eating supper and washing it down with pints of amber heaven. By closing time, the landlord was considered an old friend.

At six the next morning, Bodie and Doyle were rudely roused by a raucous sound which sounded like an ancient engine starting up.

"Ummph, wassat?" croaked Bodie, absently trying to wave the sound away with his hand.

"That, Sunshine, must be our first introduction to Annie's cock."

Despite being more asleep than awake, Bodie exploded into laughter.

"Did you bring your gun, mate?"

"Oh come now, Bodie, it's the lovely sound of the English countryside." smirked Doyle and they both collapsed into giggles.

"How's yer head, mate?"

"Which one?" replied Doyle and they burst out laughing again.

An hour later after seeing to their own cocks, showering and taking a leisurely breakfast, they took themselves out to explore. Almost immediately they ran into Alex Sutherland whose eyes seemed to light up when he saw Bodie.

"Ah morning, both, get woken up by Herbie did you?"

"Herbie?" Doyle echoed.

"Yeah, Annie's cockerel. He's one in a long of 'aitches'. She names the chickens by going through the alphabet lest she runs out of names. He succeeds Henry and Hector. Whatever you do don't mention Hamish though, still a bit of a sore point, that one."

Though it felt extremely rude, Doyle could feel the giggles rising up in him again and valiantly fought to beat them back down. Bodie could obviously see the hilarity of the situation as well, as when Alex asked them politely how they had slept, he merely squeaked.

At that moment, what the partners assumed to be a woman, though they weren't entirely sure, tramped around the corner.

"Oh morning, Sutherland!" she barked.

Her crystal cut voice immediately put Doyle in mind of Elizabeth Walsh, Cowley's old friend of so many years ago. She was decidedly underdressed for the part however, adorned in a long waxed coat, waxed hat and waxed boots.

"And good morning to you two gents! Dare say that young bugger, Herbie got you out of your beds did he? Bad young cock that one!"

Doyle nearly choked.

Not seeming to notice, Annie carried on.

"No matter, I'll get him trained up soon enough, I've never had one beat me yet, have I, Sutherland?"

"Not to my knowledge, Annie, no."

Even Alex had picked up on the ridiculousness of the conversation and seemed to be battling laughter of his own.

Annie suddenly looked at the three men, as if they were all barking mad.

"Oh well, I must leave you young things to it. got that bloody outside lav to sort out yet again."

"Well just shout if you need a hand, Annie."

"Don't be impertinent, Sutherland! I've been unblocking that bloody drain since before you were born, man!"

"Yes, Annie of course." replied Alex, chastened.

Annie looked the three men up and down, nodded briskly, then unbelievable doffed her waxed hat at them.

As an afterthought, she called out to them without breaking her stride.

"Don't forget, you chaps, you come to me for your eggs, don't be trusting those bally awful Tesco things!"

Doyle was scarlet. Unseen by Sutherland, Bodie gently slapped his arse in an effort to stop him from shrieking with the expected laughter, whilst trying to keep his own face straight.

Alex smiled at them.

"Don't mind old Annie, she's harmless enough and the very person you need around in any sort of emergency. Bet you didn't find those pints of 'Harvest Gold' you supped last night quite so harmless though did you?"

Bodie looked at Sutherland, astonished.

"Small place, Mr. Bodie," chuckled Sutherland, winking at him. "Small place!"

~~~oOo~~~

The morning was once again bathed in sunshine and the partners took to the car to explore further afield.

In no particular hurry, they stopped when they felt like it, just gazing at the pretty views, slightly amazed at the sheer quietness of it all. Though they were far north of the Norfolk Broads, they often came upon charming ponds and pretty streams. They skimmed stones and threw sticks in childish glee. They slowed for horses and tractors and occasionally had to give way to the odd car that passed them.

Pulling into a lay by, Bodie pointed out the sign for a bridleway and they left the car to walk.

"There are horses in the fields adjoining the nursery, Ray did you see them?"

"No?" Doyle replied with interest.

"I spotted them out of the window yesterday but forgot to mention them. Was just about to divulge you of your trousers at the time. Talking of which ..."

He pointed forwards toward a small glade.

Doyle stared at it then looked around him. It all appeared deserted enough and he looked back at Bodie and smiled mischievously. They entered the sheltered copse, and made gentle love in the dappled sunlight. Their only company was the muted sound of woodland birds and they felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"You were right before, Bodie. This place is a little bit of Heaven isn't it?"

"So glad you approve, Sunshine!"

In the afternoon, they made their first visit to the nursery shop and met the two charming ladies that ran it. Once again, the partners had everything about the place keenly explained to them.

Shirley, who was just cashing up, proved to be a gentle, capable person with warm good humour and the partners immediately liked her.

"The plants are all sold through here of course, and the shop itself is a place of two halves as you can see. You have all the actual gardening goods, such as your flowers pots, trowels and such like on this side, and over there we have our gift section. That's mainly Thelma's department. She makes all the soaps and candles herself. The essential oils are supplied from one of our commercial lavender customers. If either of you gentlemen ever has trouble sleeping, then you simply must take a bottle home with you."

"Did I hear my name taken in vain?" came an enthusiastic voice. "Hi, there, I'm Thelma!"

They turned towards the owner of the voice to meet Thelma, who was as bouncy and excitable as Shirley was collected and quiet.

Within the hour, Doyle found himself getting a crash course in making candles and was quite proud of the fact that by the end of it, he had become quite the expert himself.

Bodie and Doyle were just draining their first ever cup of lavender tea, when chaos broke out in the shop doorway, with a flurry of feathers and a tirade of curses. Annie, marched in, retrieved her errant cockerel and tucked him under her arm.

"Sorry chaps!" she bellowed. "Darn thing, can’t do a thing with it!"

Bodie looked at the others with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, dear. Poor Herbie!" he said, and the little gathering erupted into laughter.

~~~oOo~~~

On their return to the cottage, they once again ran into Alex.

"Hello, chaps, lovely day for it!"

Once again, his eyes seemed to shine when they alighted on Bodie, and Doyle had a slight feeling of uneasiness. It was daft, he knew. He had no earthly reason to dislike or distrust Sutherland, but he somehow felt that was a bystander looking in on something he was no part of.

"Hi, Alex, I was telling Ray earlier about the horses in your Neighbour’s field."

"Oh no, the field's all ours, Mr. Bodie. We rent it out to the local riding school. They've land of their own of course, but lots of horses means lots of mud to be made, so they like to rest their fields regularly.

It's not a money spinner by any means. Grazing around here is too reasonably priced for that, but we don't mind the horses and the visitors seem to like them. I must admit, we _do_ end up feeding and grooming them more often than not, and the owners would be more than happy to have them exercised, should you wish to ride. It all works out okay when you consider that we can get our hands on as much lovely manure as we could ever wish for!"

"Indeed!" replied Bodie, not really able to come up with a suitable reply to that one.

"So, you inspired to paint yet, Sunshine?" enquired Bodie later when they were lazing in the cottage garden.

"Yeah I might give it a go tomorrow as it happens." replied Doyle thoughtfully, "Haven't painted for years."

The next day, he gathered his art supplies together and they made their way to the lower field. There, there were good views of the lavender from one direction, and picturesque scenes of the grazing horses from the other. Doyle was concerned that Bodie might get bored and said so.

Almost on cue, they ran into Sutherland.

"S'ok, Ray, you go on and paint me a masterpiece, and I'll stay here and chat to Alex for a bit. If you're lucky, I might even bring you out a cup of lavender tea a bit later."

"Er, okay." replied Doyle uncertainly.

He took himself off and started to try and capture the colour of the glistening fields. They would indeed be glorious when in full flower, and he was a bit disappointed that they wouldn't be here to see them. The watercolours however weren't exciting him much, and he reached for his pencils to try and capture the lazy grace of the dozing horses.

His mind wandered and he started to sketch absently. Before too long, the horses were forgotten and he was drawing from imagination. As always, he reverted to his knack of drawing the human form, the skill which had gotten him into art college.

Idly scratching at the sketchpad, he formed the image of two male figures writhing naked on a bed. He considered the picture, tilting the page this way and that until he was happy with the bone structure and musculature. Finally, he completed it by filling in the details of the faces. The man on the bottom was definitely Bodie, Doyle would never tire of drawing his face. As his fingers worked almost of their own accord, he was surprised and dismayed to see that the other lover he'd portrayed was not himself. Staring back at him from the picture that he had created was the ecstatic face of Alex Sutherland.

~~~oOo~~~

By the time Bodie brought the promised tea, Doyle had stuffed the drawing to the back of his sketchbook and was doing his best to forget about it.

He had no idea where these strange feelings were coming from. Alex had proved himself a kind and gracious host. In return, Doyle was having unsavoury thoughts about the man's intentions.

Doyle cussed himself. Even if his outrageous imaginings had the slightest grain of truth, which he highly doubted, he should be pleased rather than angry. Was it not himself only last week who had decided that Bodie would be better off without him? Alex would make anyone a wonderful partner, although Doyle couldn't really picture him happily sat at home awaiting Bodie's safe return either.

Doyle longed for the heady days before the severe dent to his confidence had blighted his every decision. The old Doyle would never have doubted himself like this. Had Bodie been his lover in the past, Doyle would have defended their precious relationship to the death. Now he was looking to palm poor Bodie off to the first in line and he hated himself for it.

He supposed he would simply have to face whatever life threw at him as he had always done. You couldn't fight fate, so there was no real point trying. They were coming to the end of a beautiful holiday and he was determined to enjoy it even it was just for the memories that it would make for him.

"How's the masterpiece coming on then, mate?"

"Oh, nothing that will sell for millions yet I'm afraid, I'm too out of practice. Done a few sketches, but it's hard doing this place justice to be honest."

"That's a shame, would have been nice to have a little memento of the place. Back to the Big Smoke on Monday."

"Yeah, horrible thought isn't it? I'll miss it, Bodie, I really will."

"Really, Ray, you like it that much?"

"Well who wouldn't? It's paradise compared to some of the places we've seen."

They slowly wandered back as they were chatting. On arrival at the cottage, Bodie uncorked a bottle of wine and Doyle went to the bedroom to pack his art supplies away. They retired to the garden where they resumed their idle musings.

"So have you really enjoyed yerself, Sunshine?"

"Yes, Bodie, it _has_ been good to get away. Won't say that it hasn't left me feeling a bit depressed though."

"Oh here we go! Only you could get depressed on holiday! What on earth have you found to get depressed about?"

"Well doesn't all this make you feel that you took the wrong turning in life somewhere along the way?"

"You been reading The Guardian again? Come on, out with it, what's on your mind?"

"Well, it seems that all my life almost as far back as I can remember, I've been working against the dregs of society. Working in dirt and muck and filth. Getting spat at. Getting shot at. People here would never understand a life like that."

"Ah, but it's Cowley's 'Roses and Lavender' speech brought to life though isn't it, Ray? It's people like us that keep people like Alex and his friends safe from those dregs. Aren't you proud of what you've achieved over the years?"

"I s’pose so, just can't help wonder what might have been. You ever have regrets, Bodie?”

"Oh plenty, mate, plenty, but there's not much I can do to change the past, it's only the future I can have any influence over. Talking of the future, Alex has invited us out for a pint tonight if you're interested. The shop girls said they'd be going along at some point and Finn as well."

"Yeah I'm up for it, where we goin'?"

"White Horse of course!"

In the past few days the partners had become accepted regulars in all of the three pubs. They showered, donned their best threads and made for The White Horse. The rest of their party were already there when they arrived. Thelma was in animated conversation with Alex, Shirley was fondly watching them and Finn was casting a quizzical eye over everything.

Bodie and Doyle hadn't spent a lot of time in Finn's company. He was the sort of man who only spoke when something really needed to be said and if truth be told, they were both a little awed by him.

"Right, my round!" announced Bodie, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh thanks, Mr. Bodie, but just a lemonade for me, I don't actually drink." said Shirley demurely.

"Don't drink, woman? What's wrong with you?"

"Ooh, ooh! I drink, Mr. Bodie, Jack Daniels please, straight."

Bodie raised his eyebrows at the effervescent Thelma, before smiling fondly and turning to Finn.

"Bacardi if that's all right with yourself." the quiet man uttered.

Still smiling, Bodie took his order to the bar.

All in all, the evening, albeit spent in a backwater pub with the local characters, was one of the best Doyle could remember for many a year.

He considered his new acquaintances thoughtfully. Shirley was the ‘Salt of the Earth’ type. She was a born organizer, but had none of the brusque abruptness that Annie Fowl, as Bodie had started to call her, possessed. She dressed less conservatively for the pub and had a quiet prettiness all of her own.

Thelma was all scarves and beads and flowing tunics and would not have looked out of place on a hippy retreat. She hid a sharp intelligence and a general knowledge and opinion on everything. Funny and quirky, when she smiled, the whole room seemed to smile along with her.

Finn was the big surprise. With half a bottle of Bacardi inside him, he became a different man, revealing a sense of humour that was nothing less than wicked. He also possessed knowledge that Doyle knew Alex would sorely miss upon the man's retirement. Alex had once again proved the perfect host and Doyle had enjoyed his company. So it seemed had the rest of the party, for everyone appeared to adore him.

At the call for last orders, Bodie and Doyle's new friends declined the offer of a nightcap.

"Sorry, Bodie, I'm going to see the ladies home and then go onto my mother's. If I wake her up like a drunken sot, they'll be hell to pay and tomorrow is after all a working day for some of us!"

Bodie questioned Finn with his eyes but he also declined, making noises about getting home.

The partners elected to have a brandy apiece, waved farewell to those who had to get up for work and settled themselves at the bar.

A village which boasted one decent landlord was a bonus, but this one sported three. As they pulled their stools towards the bar, the head man of this particular establishment, Dan, smiled at them, his eyes twinkling.

"They like you, don't they? Bet it comes as a bit of a surprise to you London lads doesn't it?"

"I must admit, they are very welcoming. It's just amazing though, how they seem to know so much about us so quickly." replied Bodie.

"Yes." interjected Doyle. "On our second day, they knew what we'd been drinking the previous night before our hangovers even had the chance to kick in!"

"Ah, but that's because they care, Ray. You've chosen to share a little bit of your lives with them and they appreciate that. We do get our visitors of course, but most tourists choose to go further south for The Broads. If you found their interest intrusive, they'd soon catch on and leave you alone, but would still be there for you if you needed them. You'll also find them rather accepting of most domestic situations, if you know what I mean."

Dan winked conspiratorially at the partners and Doyle suddenly realised that he was the only one of the three landlords who didn't have a wife.

"Erm, you know that from personal experience maybe?" Bodie tentatively enquired.

"You understand me, Bodie. Sadly I haven't been quite as blessed as you two seem to have been, but I'm ever hopeful."

Slightly intoxicated, Doyle frowned into his brandy.

"Are you trying to tell me, Dan that they know all about us? If indeed, you know what I mean that is?"

Dan giggled.

"Sure they do, Ray, they're country folk after all. They've no time for high tech stuff and high society living, they've just got time for people. They know about people and likely they knew about you two as soon as you drew up in that flash car of yours! Another brandy?"

Bodie was a bit disconcerted, suddenly remembering that they had never taken the Capri to the pub which was in easy walking distance.

"I must admit, that’s certainly a somewhat refreshing view."

"Ah, but you forget, Bodie, two good looking blokes like yourselves roll up, they're more worried about you stealing away their wives and daughters. And this isn't London. We don't all hate each other like people down there seem to."

The partners stayed in the pub for a good hour past closing time, though they got the impression that Dan would have welcomed their custom for as long as they were still standing.

They rolled down the moonlit road to their little cottage, thinking thoughts and voicing the subsequent comments as only the very drunk can do.

"You never told me, Bodie ..."

"YES, Raymond? What did I never tell you?"

"How the hell did you ever find this place?"

"What Norfolk? Followed the map, mate."

"Noooo! Not Norfolk! Any old fool could find Norfolk. I could find Norfolk! If I had a map I could. No I mean THIS place, the cottage and the nursery and Alex and that, how'du find all them?"

"Ahh!"

"Ahh what, Brodie? I mean BODIE, yes that's it, 'Bodie'."

"Well, old son, I did me research din’t I?"

"You did yer research? I'm impressed old son, you did bluh ... bluh ... BLOODY good research! You know me, Bodie, I only give credit when it's due and you did do BER-LOODY good research!"

"You like it here then, D'Oyly Carte?"

"I do!"

"Well that's good then innit!"

Doyle suddenly stopped Bodie in the road and said,

"Yep!"

Inexplicably, they both found this utterly hilarious and nearly collapsed in the road guffawing with laughter. Somehow, they made their way into the cottage where they collapsed into bed, drunk, exhausted and indescribably happy.

~~~oOo~~~

The following day, nursing sore heads, the partners sadly packed their gear and prepared to leave. They stowed their bags in the car and headed to The Fleet Fox to feed themselves before they made the return journey.

They each ordered chicken and chips and ate quietly, each lost in his own thoughts.

"Shouldn't really have had this, Ray." said Bodie.

"No? Why's that then?"

"Sort of reminds me of Poor Herbie."

"No, things don't really look all that good for him do they?"

Doyle sniggered. Bodie chuckled and before too long, they were laughing out loud.

They paid their bill, bid their goodbyes to the bar staff and made their way back to the cottage. Fortunately the ladies were busy in the shop so the farewells were mercifully brief, though they begged Bodie and Doyle to return soon, almost as though they fully expected them to do so. All that was left to do was hand the key back to Alex and he shook hands solemnly with each of them. Doyle was sure he saw a wistful, even pleading look in Alex's eyes as the man shook hands with Bodie.

~~~oOo~~~

The following few weeks seemed rather odd to Doyle.

As far as he knew, Bodie was back to full time status within CI5, yet Doyle seemed to see almost as much of him as he had before. There were no night obs and no sudden call outs. Bodie didn't seem to regain the hollow eyed look that usually befell them whilst working. In fact most evenings at five pm, he bounced through the door looking as fresh as a daisy. He didn't offer Doyle any information about his working day and Doyle never asked him for any.

Bodie in turn, was concerned about Doyle. His partner had never actually told him of his intentions to quit the squad. That conversation had prematurely ended on the night he had found him in The Sallyport. He tried not to let it bother him too much, he had bigger things to concern himself with.

As he had expected, their return to London threw Doyle back into his melancholy. He tried to make good use of this free time by getting back to fitness and searching for a job. The first day that he had attempted a run, he exhausted himself. Disgusted that had gotten out of shape so quickly, he vowed to take things more sensibly and to work under supervision. He went to see Macklin who put him on a basic training program and at last he began to see results. He ran everywhere, rarely, if ever, choosing to use his car. Occasionally Bodie would run with him, never seeming to be in any particular hurry to get to HQ afterwards.

Doyle bought endless copies of local newspapers, listlessly circling job postings. It never occurred to him to look for anything in a professional capacity. All the situations he considered were purely manual or menial.

One day, he decided to check out a local building site from an advert that he had found. It was in running distance so he decided to incorporate a quick recce with his daily workout. He found the site easily enough and spotted what must be the foreman's hut in the centre of it. Fully intending to knock on the door and introduce himself, he took a deep breath and a step forward. At the same moment a workman came from the back of the hut pushing a wheelbarrow. He was stripped to the waist and Doyle could see that he was well built and sweating in the heat. Doubling over, Doyle nearly vomited as visions of Jerry Baldwin strutting towards him invaded his mind. He turned on his heels and blinded by tears, he nearly stumbled. He fought to right his footing and tore off back for home at a much faster pace than he was used to.

When Bodie finally arrived back, Doyle had showered and tried his damndest to relax. His over stretched muscles still hollered at him however and his tortured mind made him irritable and moody towards Bodie. Bodie as always, watched him with concern, but didn't attempt to argue with him or antagonise him any further.

On another afternoon, Bodie phoned Doyle at home.

"Pub, Sunshine?"

"Er, yeah I guess so, what's the occasion?"

"Got a visitor come down to see us!"

"Eh? Who?"

But Bodie would say no more, so Doyle grabbed his jacket and made off for their local.

He walked through the smoky gloom towards the bar and was suddenly astonished to see Alex Sutherland sat there with Bodie, three pints lined up in front of them.

"Hello stranger!" announced Sutherland appearing genuinely pleased to see him.

Since leaving Norfolk, Doyle had all but forgotten his mixed feelings towards Sutherland but they suddenly resurged within him. What the hell was the man doing here? Norfolk was one thing, but now the man was invading Doyle's territory and he silently bristled.

Since returning to London, Doyle's attitude towards his relationship with Bodie had changed considerably. He had given himself a good talking to, realising that you never got anywhere in life by sitting on the side-lines. He was lucky to have Bodie and he had resolved to give their love the care and attention it deserved.

The sudden arrival of Sutherland reminded him of a time when he’d been all too ready to throw in the towel. Nevertheless, he attempted to remain polite and interested throughout the afternoon and was reasonably happy with Sutherland's offer to shout them all a curry.

It seemed that Alex was doing unspecified business in London and though Doyle was dying to know just what that business was, he didn't press the man for information. To Doyle's surprise, the evening passed pleasantly. If Sutherland had noticed his earlier rudeness, he hadn't made it known and by the end of the night, Doyle was feeling rather ashamed of himself.

Bodie didn't seem to notice anything amiss and when they parted from Sutherland's company at the end of the night, he seemed positively buoyant.

~~~oOo~~~

Every so often during his three months notice period, Doyle would be summoned by Kate Ross in order for her to 'monitor his progress'. He hated these trips with a vengeance. Every time he was about to leave for headquarters, a thousand butterflies launched themselves in his stomach. He rarely said much in the sessions and therefore in his opinion, they were a complete waste of time. Ross however, valiantly continued to ask the same old questions and Doyle resolutely refused to answer them. Little did he realise that his stubborn silences told her much more than words could have done.

Doyle rarely saw Bodie at HQ and avoided Cowley's office like it was plague ridden. Occasionally he would meet with Macklin who would assess his fitness levels. Doyle was careful however, to only visit the training centre when the risk of other people being present was minimal. This was all carefully observed and noted by Doctor Ross.

Cowley was saddened but unsurprised by her findings.

"He's still acting the part of the victim, Sir. For all his bravado and the insolence that he shows during our sessions, he's not really much further forward than he was just after the incident happened."

"And the Norfolk trip, Doctor? Do you think it did any good?”

"Well from my interviews with 3~7, I can only gather that the trip was a success for Doyle. He was able to relax himself enough to learn to become Ray Doyle again. It was returning to London and being faced with becoming 4~5 once more that unsettled him."

"I can't afford to employ victims, Miss Ross. Is there any real chance of me getting him back? Any chance at all?"

"He'd have to want to come back first, Sir, and I see no evidence of that from what he's shown me."

"And what about his state of mind? Is he mentally competent enough to do his job?"

"In my opinion, no Sir, he’s not. You wouldn't dream of keeping him if he were a new recruit. He just hasn't got it in him currently and all the time that he continues to hide himself away from his colleagues, I can't see that situation changing."

"As I feared, Miss Ross, as I feared."

~~~oOo~~~

If there was one thing in Doyle's life that was giving him increasing pleasure, it was his running. He was clocking up ten miles a day with ease and the changes to his body and his mind pleased him enormously. He could think whilst pounding the streets and his thoughts were positive ones. In contrast, if he sat down at home for more than five minutes letting his mind drift, he became morose and despondent.

After a few weeks he had lots of new routes worked out and come rain or shine, he travelled them all. One glorious summer morning, he elected to take in St. James’s Park. He enjoyed the parks. He could watch and observe other people, but be gone and away from them on the turn of a heel as soon as their presence felt threatening.

On one particular morning, he left the park and once on the street, spotted Bodie's parked car. Giving a whoop of joy, he suddenly remembered to damp down his enthusiasm. Bodie was possibly on a stakeout. An over exuberant Doyle could blow Bodie's cover in an instant if he wasn't careful. He stood in the street looking around wondering where Bodie might possibly be. Shrugging to himself, he decided that it didn't really matter. If Bodie's recent work pattern was anything to go by, Doyle would be seeing him again in three hours anyway. Stretching his legs out on a convenient wall, he prepared to run again. At the same moment, the door from a nearby pub was flung open and a laughing Bodie came out of it. For some unknown reason, Doyle felt the need to conceal himself as he observed his partner. The next thing he saw, almost stopped his heart. A second behind Bodie, came Alex Sutherland. Sutherland made as if to shake Bodie's hand, but Bodie pulled him into an embrace and hugged him hard.

Doyle was poleaxed. The itch to run had deserted his feet and he walked the entire way home arriving there exhausted. He showered before collapsing onto the settee, a mass of misery. There was an hour until he expected Bodie home and he filled it with imagined accusations and arguments, the final scene being Bodie storming out and leaving him on his own.

Things actually turned out quite differently. Bodie let himself in, gently shook awake his slumbering partner and from that moment was all over him. Never immune to waking to a horny Bodie, Doyle revelled in the attention. They fucked like their lives depended on it, ate supper, fucked again and finally fell into sleep in each other’s arms.

The image of Alex Sutherland lodged itself in Doyle's mind, but he tried as much as he was able to keep the intrusion at bay. Bodie was as kind and attentive as ever and with no idea of what to do or what to think, Doyle tried to carry on with life as he had been doing.

Macklin had demanded Doyle's presence in the gym on a Thursday morning to test his core strength. Doyle wasn't entirely happy with the situation. He preferred to choose his own times when it came to going into HQ but as an employee he had little choice in the matter. When Towser announced to Doyle that Macklin had been, albeit temporarily, invalided by an over enthusiastic new recruit, Doyle thought that Christmas had come early.

Making his way out of the building, Doyle had to pass the general restroom. Hearing a loud laugh from his partner stopped him in his tracks. Once again for some odd reason, he felt the need to hide himself. He sheltered in the shadows behind the open door and concentrated on the conversation between Bodie and Murphy within the room.

"So, you sure about this Alex guy then, Bodie?"

"So far can't find a thing wrong with him, mate, he's just bloody perfect!"

"Bloody hell, it’s not as if you don't deserve a bit of good luck after what's gone on with Ray and all."

"Yeah, poor Ray."

"When you gonna tell 'im?"

"Well I should have told him before now to be honest and now I'm bloody dreading it."

"He'll understand won't he, why you did it 'an all?"

"I fucking hope so, Murph. I really don't want to upset him and you know what he can be like!"

Doyle felt as though his blood had turned to ice. Having no wish to hear any more, he fled the building with only one destination in mind.

With tears streaming from his eyes, he tore towards the high street. Unseeing of the disgruntled shoppers that he barged into, he desperately tried to banish the thoughts that were crowding in his head.

Bodie was good. Bodie was kind and beautiful. Bodie had tried his best with him, but Bodie was only human. What the hell would Bodie want with someone as hideous as this? Someone who had managed to get himself bloody raped for God's sake? Someone as dirty and filthy and bloody useless as Ray Doyle?

Doyle pelted into the hardware shop and started manically searching the shelves. Other people moved nervously away from the crazy looking man who appeared drunk or high or both. Doyle searched high and low for the item, scattering other goods in his wake. Finally clasping his hand around it, he rushed towards the checkout and elbowed his way in front of other people to get to the assistant.

"How much for this?" he urgently barked at the young girl.

"Um, twenty pence, Sir." she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

He reached inside his back pocket and produced a five pound note. He dropped the bill on the counter and was gone before she had the chance to open the till and render his change.

He careered along the road, his poisonous thoughts chasing him.

'You're nothing more than a fucking dirty bloody animal Ray Doyle! Why the fuck would Bodie ever want you? He must be fucking kicking himself, you nasty dirty piece of shit!'

Not seeing where he was going, Doyle knocked into an oncoming man and briefly looked into the startled eyes of young Davey Thompson.

"Mr. Doyle! Are you all right?"

"I fucked up, Davey. I really fucked it all right up!"

Before Thompson could reply to the statement, Doyle was off. Shocked, Davey rushed onto HQ as fast as his legs could carry him.

Doyle all but fell into his flat. He flung the front door towards its frame and headed for his bathroom shedding his clothes viciously.

Clasping the stiff scrubbing brush that he had bought, he shook his head blindly.

'You're a fuckin' filthy fuckin' faggot, Ray Doyle! You let those blokes have you and you didn't even TRY to stop them. No wonder Bodie washed his hands of you, you're fucking disgusting! Bodie must bloody hate you, you dirty little cunt!'

He turned on the shower taps not attempting to adjust the temperature of the water. Stepping underneath the cascade he stared down at the scrubbing brush. 'Filthy bastard!' he thought to himself before viciously attacking his body with the brush. The first stroke almost made him yell out loud but spurred him on into an almost ritualistic abuse of himself. He scrubbed and tore demonically. The pain was monstrous but he hardly noticed it. The first skin to give way was the delicate covering on his newly healed wrists. As soon as he started to bleed, he scrubbed even harder. More blood started to appear and he savagely scrubbed, both exhilarated and disgusted by the sight. Useless pieces of epidermis flowed towards the drain in the bloodied water.

He stopped for a minute and looked down at his handiwork. 'Fucking filthy whore!' he thought and brutally attacked his buttocks with the hard brush. The unforgiving bristles bit into the soft flesh and new blood joined the rest on the journey towards the drain. He scrubbed for all that he was worth trying to erase the pain and hatred of his being. Eventually totally exhausted, he looked at the remnants of himself flushing themselves away before collapsing in the shower cubicle.

~~~oOo~~~

White faced, Davey Thompson rushed into CI5 HQ. Mercifully he ran straight into Bodie and Murphy coming out.

"You need to find Mr. Doyle!" he implored.

"What the fuck's wrong with you now, Thompson?" bellowed Bodie

"No hang on, Bodie." interjected Murphy, "What's wrong, Davey?"

"I saw 4~5 and he looked crazy, I mean really crazy! I asked if he was okay and he said that he'd fucked everything up. Christ he frightened me to death!"

Bodie quietly thought that most things would probably frighten Thompson to death, but something about the man’s obvious distress disturbed him.

"Where did you see Doyle, Thompson?" Bodie asked levelly.

"On the high street just twenty minutes ago. Mr. Anson sent me out for some sandwiches. I know you think I'm hopeless, Mr. Bodie and if I'm wrong then I truly am sorry, but something wasn't right with Mr. Doyle, other people were backing away from him as well."

"It's okay, Davey, you did all right." replied Bodie hiding his mounting panic. "Go and get yourself a cup of tea, we'll take it from here."

Relieved, Thompson took himself off and Bodie and Murphy made their way to the car pool. Though it would have made more sense for them each to head for different places, in unspoken agreement, they both climbed into Murphy's Cortina which he immediately headed towards Doyle's flat.

As soon as they arrived, they noticed something amiss for the front door was swinging open. Bodie rushed through the lounge to the kitchen and onto the small garden. Murphy had chosen to take the bedrooms and bath and from the latter uttered a blood curdling cry to summon Bodie. His heart leaping into his mouth, Bodie crashed through the flat towards the bathroom.

The sight which awaited him would haunt Bodie's dreams forever. He stared down at his beloved partner who was laying tucked in a foetal position under the falling water. Doyle's pulsating body was bright red, rivers of precious lifeblood flowing casually out of him into the drain of oblivion. Bodie screamed and continued to scream until he wondered where the noise was coming from and became quiet. Taking control, Murphy shut down the water and rushed to Doyle's side.

"Tell me he isn't dead, Murph, oh dear God please tell me he's not dead!"

The bathroom was considerably quieter with the cessation of the water and Murphy was able to find a strong but thready pulse.

"Nope he's with us, old son, but we need an ambulance and we need one now, go call one eh?"

Bodie leapt for the telephone and Murphy hurriedly looked for something to cover the prone man with. Doyle's flesh was raw and Murphy discounted towels as being too scratchy. He ran to the bedroom and dragged the cotton covered quilt from the bed. He returned to the bathroom and gently covered Doyle with the quilt, mindful of fabric sticking to the man's open wounds.

Though it seemed like hours, the ambulance men arrived within ten minutes. Used to most things, even they seemed shocked at the sight that awaited them. They had to pull themselves together before loading their patient and his two saviours into their ambulance. During the journey, Bodie stared ahead in stunned silence and Murphy still holding the brush, wasn't faring much better. In the casualty department a young doctor rushed to meet them. Bodie recognised that the readiness of the medical staff indicated the seriousness of Doyle's condition.

"Please, is Doctor Kennedy on duty? She treated him recently."

The doctor looked at Bodie and instantly made for a telephone. Within a few minutes the familiar figure of Doctor Kennedy came striding into the department. She took a quick look at Doyle and a longer one at Bodie.

Within minutes, Doyle was whisked into a cubicle, attached to drips and oxygen lines and was undergoing assessment. The doctor returned her attention to Bodie recognising that he was showing the early signs of shock.

"Mr. Bodie, have you had any alcohol today or taken any drugs prescribed or otherwise?"

"No?" replied Bodie weakly. "But please don't put me out, I need to be here for him." he said guessing her intentions.

"Just something to calm you down, Mr. Bodie, don't worry, I won't put you out."

She signed a form with a flourish and sent a nurse off with her order. She then looked towards Murphy.

"No I'm fine, just take care of these two."

She turned her attention back to Doyle. He had certainly done a number on himself.

Satisfied when her primary patient was made more comfortable and out of imminent danger, she left the other aides to continue to care for him. She then pulled Bodie to one side to try to establish some recent history.

"How's he been, Mr. Bodie, was there any indication that something like this might happen?"

"No, none at all, Doctor. He's being doing really well in fact."

"No underlying worries he might have had, anything at all?

"Well I know that he wanted to quit work, but that's been the situation more or less since we last saw you to be honest. It wouldn't have caused him do something like this would it? I thought he'd been attacked when I first saw him or maybe been scalded by the shower 'till Murphy found the brush. Then of course we saw the scratches on his skin. Doctor, I've no idea why he would have done something like this!"

"Has he talked much to anyone do you know, about the sexual attacks he suffered?"

"No not really. I know Kate Ross was concerned about that, but he really has seemed fine, honestly. We've been on holiday since then and he seemed to love that. He's been out running every day and is as fit as ever."

"Erm, sorry to ask you this, Mr. Bodie and it might be something that you can't answer anyway, but do you know if he's resumed any sexual activity at all?"

"Uh, um, I can confirm that as it happens. We're ... Ray and I, we're sort of, together now if you know what I mean?"

The doctor looked up sharply at Bodie.

"Are you telling me that you and Mr. Doyle are sharing intimate relations?"

"Yes we are." Bodie replied quietly.

"And has this liaison started since the assaults upon Mr. Doyle or was it going on before?"

"Since. It was what happened that day that made him tell me about himself. I had no idea up until that point that Ray had any interest in men."

"And you took advantage of the situation?"

"No! I mean, well it wasn't like that. Doctor, I ... I love him, we love each other! I sometimes think that we always have, we just didn't know how to tell each other before. And it's been ... it’s been good. It really has."

"Mr. Bodie, I'm not judging you. What you get up to behind closed doors is no concern of mine. I just can't help but get the feeling that embarking on a homosexual relationship so soon after what happened to him might not have done Mr. Doyle many favours."

"Do you really think I'd do anything to hurt him? Christ, I'd lay down my bloody life for him gladly and he'd do the same for me! If you think that me loving him has brought him down to this then ..."

Bodie tailed off sadly, with thoughts that his own selfish needs and wants might have driven his partner to this desperate state of mind.

"Please, just tell me, do you think he's going to be all right?"

Taking pity on the desolate man in front of her, the doctor outlined her findings.

"At the moment, our main concern is shock, Mr. Bodie and that is what we're treating him for. We've done blood tests which will determine his haemoglobin levels, but I believe the blood loss was less severe than it might have first appeared when he was found. It would have looked worse with him being under running water at the time. His skin is likely recoverable without the need for grafts, but he will be sore for a while I'm afraid. We'll have to check for nerve damage to the more delicate areas such as his wrists."

"But he'll be okay, he'll come through it?"

"His vital signs are good and he's responding well to treatment. I'm satisfied that he's out of immediate danger. What we really need to establish, is what caused this to happen. What sparked him off? What was he doing prior to you finding him?"

"Well he had an appointment at the gym with our trainer as far as I know."

"Could something have happened there to upset him do you think? From the severity of his injuries, this would suggest to me a random event, I don't imagine it was something he had planned."

"Well I'll certainly see if there's anything I can find out at HQ, but he seemed perfectly fine when I left him to leave for work this morning."

"You're living in a domestic situation together?"

"Yes, more or less. I never really moved out from his place after I initially looked after him."

"And you say that he's appeared to be fine up until now? There's nothing at all that he's said or done to give you concern?"

"Well he was quiet and moody the first day or so after it happened, but that's only natural I s'pose. There was one time ... Oh, Christ! There was one time we were talking about the kid who saved him, who actually called CI5 and told us of his whereabouts. Ray said that Jason had saved his life but that sometimes he wished that the kid had never bothered! Bloody hell! It was when we were on holiday, but we talked it out and I never gave it a second thought after that. Do you think I could have missed something vital? Do you think this could have been an attack on his own life? Oh dear God in heaven, how could I have missed that?"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Bodie. For what it's worth, I don't think this was an attempt on his life. I'm sure someone in Mr. Doyle's position would have access to more traditional methods should he have wanted to kill himself. No, this was an extreme reaction to something which had disturbed him. We're not likely to find out what that was until we get to speak to him and that might not be for quite a while yet. He'll be sedated when it's deemed safe to do so and the psyche team will be brought in tomorrow to assess him further."

"Then what will happen to him? He won't be locked away somewhere will he?"

"Do you think it would be better for him if he was?"

"No! No, doctor I think that would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. I can look after him. I know you probably don't believe that now after what's happened, but I'm willing to do anything that will help him, anything at all."

"Very well, Mr. Bodie, I'd better get back to my patient. Try and get some rest yourself. You won’t be much help to him if you're exhausted, you know."

"Can I see him, Doctor?"

"Give us a while to get him settled onto a ward and we'll let you know when you can see him."

"Should I try to speak to him, ask him what's wrong?"

"Well he is your, erm, friend. I would hope to think he might readily open up to you before he does anyone else, though embarrassment or shame may prevent him from doing so. You won't get anything out of him tonight, but when he is back in the land in the living, it's vital that you don't harangue him. If I see the slightest sign that your presence distresses him, then you're out on your ear, Mr. Bodie."

Dismissed by the departing doctor and feeling like a wrung out dishrag, Bodie went in search of Murphy.

"Ello mate, could you call this in to Cowley? Just play it down though if you would. I somehow don't really think Ray will want him knowing all the ins and outs of this if you know what I mean. And please, assure him his presence isn't required. Don't think I quite cope with him as well as everything else at the moment. Then for God's sake get yourself home mate, you've been great today, you really have."

Murphy understood his friend perfectly. He contacted George Cowley in person and informed him that Doyle had been admitted to hospital following an incident. He stressed that Bodie was capably in attendance and would contact his controller with news and details the following day. He then left, but not for his own home. Using the key that Doyle had inadvertently left hanging from his door, Murphy let himself into Doyle's flat. He stuffed the spoiled quilt cover into a plastic bag and replaced it with a spare he found. He then entered the bathroom and proceeded to bleach it until its sparkling facade denied the bloody evidence of what had happened there. No one should have to come home to that.

~~~oOo~~~

When granted access, Bodie entered the darkened room and saw his partner, cleaned, bandaged and sleeping soundly.

He pulled up the uncomfortable visitors chair, clasped Doyle's open hand and rested his forehead against it.

Utterly drained, Bodie fell into a shallow, troubled sleep himself.

Though he was largely uninterrupted throughout the night, Bodie was hastily ejected from the room at dawn. The medical team coming on shift all wanted their piece of Doyle and groggily, Bodie went in search of coffee. He was unsurprised to run into Cowley.

"Morning, Sir, sorry not to have filled you in more last night, there really was nothing you could have done here."

"Och, hush, Bodie, I received a report from the hospital before 6~2 even had the chance to contact me."

"So you, er, know what happened Sir?"

"I made it my business to know 3~7. When a young agent like Thompson comes into headquarters looking like the hounds of hell are after him, you tend to take notice. Is there any further news?"

"No Sir. Would you mind awfully if I asked you to leave? There's nothing you can do here and I’ll soon inform you if there is. We just really need to be on our own right now."

For once, Cowley chose to look at Bodie as the man rather than the agent. In a few short words, 3~7 had confirmed his relationship with Doyle without even realising it and Cowley now knew that Bodie was lost to CI5 forever.

Bodie sadly returned to the small room, the doctors having finished their business for the time being. Doyle was conscious if not entirely awake. Bodie laid his hand over Doyle's pale fingers. The movement brought Doyle to wakefulness and he turned to look Bodie in the eye. Focusing, Doyle swiftly pulled his hand away and turned his face to the wall.

"Ray?" Bodie enquired.

Groggy but determined, his gravelly voice tainted with venom, Doyle replied.

"Go away, Bodie, please, just go away."

Worse than anything he had seen or heard in his eventful life, the short sentence was enough to shatter Bodie's heart.

Hurting more than he realised he possibly could, he all but fell from the room.

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie stood outside by the hospital entrance trying to clear his mind. He reached into his inside pocket and withdrew an old pack of John Player Specials. Though he rarely smoked, he welcomed the heavy shot of nicotine that he pulled into his lungs.

Stunned by Ray's dismissal, he tried to think things through rationally. The doctor had been right. Ray must hate the thought of talking after what had happened, it was no wonder he had sent Bodie away. Though the thought of doing it terrified him, he went back in to face his partner once more. Doyle was sleeping again and Bodie felt more than a little relieved. He resumed his place by the side of the bed and waited for Doyle to wake.

Eventually, Doyle once again surfaced wincing as the pain hit him. He opened his eyes to see Bodie, surprised to see him.

"What are you still doing here, I thought I told you to go?"

"What? Where the hell would I possibly go?"

"To Alex of course."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's okay, Bodie, I know. I've known for months and I don't blame you. I don't blame him really, it's just when I had it confirmed, I found it harder to cope with than I realised I would."

"Ray, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Just make sure he looks after you, Bodie, you deserve that."

A doctor and two nurses chose that moment to enter the room and once again chased Bodie out in order to carry out their observations.

Bodie was becoming increasingly frustrated. Desperate now to talk to his odd partner and find out what was going on in that curly head of his, he was being thwarted at every turn. Finally the medical staff left the room and he rushed back in before Doyle even considered the idea of dropping off again.

Doyle was drowsy, but quietly spoke as soon as Bodie came in and sat down.

"Sorry, Bodie, about yesterday I mean. It must have been a bit of a shock for you."

"What on earth were you thinking, Ray? Why did you do it?"

"Wasn't thinkin’ really. Just wanted to be clean. Thought if I wasn't so dirty you might love me again. Know that was stupid now. Wouldn't matter how hard I scrubbed would it, I'd lost you and that was that. Where is Alex? Is he here for you?"

"Ray, what the hell is it you think that Alex and I have been doing for Christ's sake?"

"Don't patronise me, Bodie. Please don't make it harder. I've said I don't blame you, now just leave me alone and go and get on with your life."

"No! Let me get this straight. Are you actually telling me that you think I've got designs on Alex Sutherland's body? That we've been having some sort of clandestine affair?"

"I told you, I don't blame him either, Bodie, he'd be stupid not to want you."

Bodie was livid.

"You fucking selfish little bastard! I can't ... I just can't bloody believe this! Christ I'm doing all I bloody can think of to make you happy, and you accuse me of screwing around behind your back! Nice to see what you really think of me mate, really nice, thanks very much! Well I tell you what, you just lay there and wallow in your own self misery, I've just about had a gut full of it!"

Doyle could count on one hand the number of times his partner had ever raised his voice to him and Bodie had just given it to him with both barrels. Sadly watching him hastily exit the room, Doyle once again stiffly turned to face the wall.

Bone weary, Bodie discounted the tube and took a cab for his own flat. Though he had stopped by to pick up the odd piece of mail or clothing, it was months since he had regularly used the place and it smelled of disuse. He flicked the kettle switch, thought better of it and went to pour himself some Scotch. He downed it in one and poured another sipping it more slowly. Taking the glass with him, he went into the bathroom and turned on the bath taps. He soaked in the steaming tub for nearly an hour, feeling his anger slowly ebb away. He dried and dressed feeling at last fresh and clean but immeasurably tired. He looked longingly at his bed. He really should be getting back to Ray. He hadn't meant to blow up at him like that, though the golly certainly managed to push his buttons when he felt like it. He retrieved his whisky, downed it and stretched out on his sofa. Within a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

It was late afternoon when Bodie woke and he felt a little better. He splashed water on his face, cleaned his teeth and made coffee. Mourning the fact that his car was still parked outside Doyle's flat, he called a minicab and made his way back to the hospital and Doyle.

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie was surprised when he got into the small room to find Doyle propped up in bed.

"Hello, Sunshine, how's the pain?"

Doyle looked at him guardedly and Bodie realised with dismay that the man seemed scared of him.

"Hey, come on, Ray, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off at you. It’s just … Oh God, Ray, do you really think that after all our years together, I'd even look at anyone else once we'd finally declared we loved each other? I know there are things I should have told you, I realise that now, but I did have my reasons. Will you let me try to explain things to you? Please? I swear I won't lie to you, Ray, I never have before and I'm not about to start now."

Doyle gave Bodie a hooded look and Bodie clasped his hand. Doyle tried to pull away but Bodie was having none of it.

"Tell me something, Ray, just tell me honestly. You want to leave CI5 don't you?"

Doyle's eyes dropped, his face colouring.

"It's okay, I'm not blaming you. It's a hard enough job for someone that wants to do it but if you carry on when your heart's not in it, well that's not just pointless, it's bloody dangerous, Ray. Okay so you won't stay in to get the golden handshake, but if you ask me, we've already had our fair share of luck, just staying alive up till now. I've no doubt that you think you're letting me, Cowley and probably all of England down, Ray, but you're not, you're doing what's right for you however much it hurts. I'm just trying to make things a little easier that's all.

Now I've got something to tell you. Something I should have told you months ago and if you just let me get it out without any histrionics then I'd be very grateful. That okay with you?"

Doyle nodded once.

"Okay, strewth where do I begin? Well firstly, before we went to Norfolk, I did, I admit, know of Alex Sutherland."

Doyle winced at hearing the name, but was still listening, and Bodie continued.

"I got his details from a mutual acquaintance of ours, one George Cowley as a matter of fact."

Doyle looked up at that, stunned confusion written all over his face.

"Alex's mother, Claire, is Cowley's cousin. He gave me the details after he told me of your intention to resign and I phoned Alex up. I've been in contact with the Sutherland's more or less ever since."

Doyle looked up in disgust at Cowley's disregard for his privacy, then squeezed his eyes shut not really wanting to hear any more.

Bodie held his hand up to him. "Don't look like that, Ray, you said you'd hear me out."

Letting out a huge breath, Doyle indicated that Bodie continue.

"Ray, have no fear, I most certainly have no intentions whatsoever of getting Alex Sutherland into bed. I've never even looked at him in that way. And as far as I know, though that's his business of course, the man hasn't got a bent bone in his body. My main evidence for this is that he's engaged to be married to an apparently, rather beautiful woman next year."

Doyle looked at Bodie questioningly.

"It's true, Ray. Do you remembering him telling us that he takes on casual staff every year?"

"Yes." Doyle whispered.

"Well, two years ago, he took on an Australian student, Meredith. She's taking her PhD at Kew. That's why he comes down to London every now and then, to visit her. Remember that time we saw him at the pub? He called in to see us on his way back from seeing her.

Anyway, they got to know each other and they fell in love. I haven't met her, but you only have to see the look in his eyes when he talks about her to know how he feels. He proposed and she accepted. There's just one problem on the horizon before they get their happy ever after."

"What's that?" Doyle urged, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Well, Alex owns a fifty acre nursery. It's a profitable business, he employs staff and it's really all he's ever known. You could probably understand why he wouldn't want to ever leave it. However, when her parents retire, Meredith stands to inherit a twenty thousand acre farm in Western Australia. She's studying agriculture in London so that when she comes of age, she can run her family business to the best of her ability. Well there was no contest really, Alex could grow as much lavender as he wanted in twenty thousand acres if that was his fancy, so he put in his applications to Australia House which were accepted. As soon as Meredith graduates, they leave for Oz. When the elderly aunt pops her clogs, Claire's hoping to join them down there."

Doyle frowned at Bodie, still having no idea where all of this was going.

"Ray, I must admit, this is where I'm a bit ashamed of myself. I know I should have told you, or _asked_ you rather. Also, honest to God, if you think it's a stupid idea which you hate, that's no problem either. It could be stopped as quickly as it was started, have no worries on that score."

Doyle was looking totally perplexed now and Bodie gripped his hand even tighter.

"Ray. The reason I've been seeing Alex, well it's not because I fancy him! It's ... it's because I want to buy his nursery. I want to buy it for you. For us. We'll need something to do once we've quit the squad. We're too young to retire and we're too full of energy to sit about idle. The holiday was a reconnaissance mission to see if we liked the place. It was just an idea at the time, we might have been bored witless, but we weren't, Ray, we liked it. You did like it didn't you?"

Doyle was almost struck dumb, but somehow manage to whisper "Yes."

"I must admit, I didn't realise you'd like it quite so much, but you came alive again there, Ray and I knew I had to try."

Doyle was frowning again.

"So why didn't you tell me. And who the hell else knew?"

"Well Cowley knew of course, and I sounded Murph out just to make sure the idea didn't sound too crazy. But I swore Alex to secrecy. I told him that it was your decision. I didn't want to run your life for you, but if I could pull it off for you I would. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't know if I could make it all happen, didn't really know if I could pull the money together in time. I would rather you knew nothing about it than hand a dream to you on a plate and then snatch it away again and leave you disappointed in me."

"But he looked at you as though he wanted to bloody eat you Bodie! All those furtive looks, he wanted you, I know he did!"

"Ray, he's had three offers on the place. One from Sainsbury's who want to go into competition with the local Tesco and two from building companies who want to apply for permission to put houses on the land. I'm the first person to come along who wants the place for what it is. We could keep the business going, keep his workers employed and he can leave happily with a clear conscious. It's no wonder he gets a little doe eyed at me Ray, he's got six months to be rid of the place and I could be the one to make all his dreams come true."

"But you hugged him, Bodie for God's sake, I saw you with my own eyes!"

"Raymond have you been spying on me, you little shit?"

"No! Least not intentionally, I was out running and I saw you coming ..."

"Oh, out of the pub. Yes. I can see how it might have looked, especially as I've been so underhand. Ray, what you saw, was me congratulating a man who I now consider a friend, in a public place. Seeing as an hour before he had just found out that in seven months time he's due to become a father for the first time, it didn't seem wholly inappropriate."

"Oh my God, they're having a baby?"

"Yes, Ray they are. Not entirely planned but they're both thrilled about it. And it does of course make the sale of Alex's place all the more urgent, especially with Finn about to retire. Oh God, Ray, if only you'd stopped me that day outside that pub, I would have willingly told you all this then!"

Doyle was thoughtful again, still unsure if he had heard anything correctly.

"So tell me, Bodie how the hell do you expect to pay for a place like that, I mean it can't be going for shirt buttons can it?"

"Well no. Though land in North Norfolk is actually quite cheap, whoever buys it will have to pay the price for the land, the business as a going concern and a renovated fourteenth century cottage."

"So you planning on winning the pools then?"

"No, Ray. I don't need to. I've got a bank account that you don't know about. In fact, apart from the bankers that oversee it for me, Cowley and myself are the only people who know of its existence."

"Oh great, yet more deep, dark secrets."

"Please don't be like that, Ray."

"What, so you're a secret millionaire or something? Oh, be still my beating heart! What must that make me then eh, a bloody gold digger or something?"

"Ray! I'm by no means a millionaire. I didn't tell you about that account because I never even think about it myself. The only reason I had to tell Cowley was for tax purposes when he first took me on. All it is to me is death money."

"What the hell is 'death money' when it's at 'ome?"

"It's money I earned when I was working as a mercenary, Ray. There's not an awful lot you can spend cash on in the back end of beyond and I learnt from those days. When I got back to civilization after one trip, I put the whole lot in a high interest account in Switzerland. You see the thing is, some of the jobs I've done don't all come with nice, shiny pensions like we get now. If you get injured in some Godforsaken jungle without the bus fare home, that's your lookout. I kept that money so that if I ever became too disabled to work, I could pay for food or medical bills or even a funeral should I wished. It was just death money, Ray. I stuffed it away and literally forgot about it. I never thought about buying a car or a house nor anything else with it. It was Cowley that suggested I used it to do some good. It's not a fortune but it could buy the nursery should you think that a good idea. If you don't, then p'raps I could do something else with it? I've really never ever thought of doing anything nice with it. It was just the monetary ghost of a life of shit, Ray.

I must admit, I've not really spent much time at HQ lately. Most of my time has been spent with financial advisors and business managers trying to find out if this could be a goer. Even getting the money out of Switzerland is a nightmare, but at last, I know it can be done. It's completely up to you, Sunshine. As I said, I have no earthy desire to run your life. The fact that you've hurt yourself has all but destroyed me and I'll never forgive myself for that.

But if you wanted, and I mean if you really wanted, Lavender Cottage could be ours in the next twenty four hours."

Doyle looked troubled.

"But, Bodie, what the hell do you know about plants? Could you really be happy doing something like that? It wouldn't be the most exciting thing you've ever done would it?"

"I probably know as much as I did about boats when I joined the Merchant Navy. I don't care what I do in life as long as you're by my side doing it too. And to be honest, if I haven’t had enough excitement in my life already, then there must be something wrong with me. Besides, all my adult life I've had to answer to someone or other. Wouldn't you like to do something for yourself, Ray? Reap your own rewards?"

"It's a wonderful offer, Bodie. I'd love to say yes, but I'm so sorry, I ... I just can't."

Bodies’ heart sank, but he gently rubbed the back of Doyle's hand nevertheless.

"Any particular reason, Sunshine, don't you like the idea?"

"No, it's not that, I'd love to live there with you, I really would, it's just me, Bodie. I've been going over and over it in my head since I've been laying here. It's time you knew the truth about me and when you know that, you won't want me anymore. The scrubbing brush didn't work, you see. I'm still a filthy, scummy ..."

"Hey come on, Ray, enough of that, it's over! You're not dirty, you flippin' idiot, you're mine and I love you!"

"It's true though, Bodie. When you saw me ... when you saw me in the gym with that man, he was ... oh, God! He was bloody turning me on, Bodie! If you hadn't come bursting in when you did, I would have ... I would have ..."

"Ray, did you ask him to do that to you? Did you want him to?"

"No, Bodie and I still feel sick thinking of it, but it's true all the same, he got me right to the brink ..."

"It seems like we have something in common then, Sunshine. The first time I was raped, I didn't come either. I did the second time though."

Doyle's head snapped up.

"What? You, Bodie? Oh God no! Why didn't you ..."

"Tell you? I figured you had enough to cope with, I didn't want to add to your problems. Sad to say though, you’re not the only one who carries that particular burden, mate."

"Oh, Bodie, I'm so sorry! I've been such a selfish sod!"

"It makes you selfish, Ray, don't worry. I can tell you about it if you want?"

Doyle nodded silently, and looking blankly ahead, Bodie continued to speak.

"The first time, was my uncle, my Da's brother. I was only twelve at the time. My old man was a right piss 'ead see, and every now and again my Ma would have enough and ship us out to live with him instead. He must have been shafting her as they always shared a room when we stayed there. She can't have been quite enough for him though as when she went out in the evenings to do her Goddamn shitty little cleaning jobs, he started in on me. He finally actually took me, when I was fourteen. It hurt so bad, Ray and I just wanted to die after that. We went back home for a while, but one day the old man started playing up again and Ma started packing our stuff to go to my uncles. That's when I ran away and I've never been back since.

I somehow blagged my way onto a Merchant Navy ship as an apprentice able seaman. It was great for a year or so, they looked after me and I learned a lot. Things were okay until this chief engineer joined the ship in Southampton. He singled me out almost as soon as he got on board. He must have sussed out that I was under age and he held that over me. When he had me, he made sure I came, the dirty old bastard. I've never quite got over the shame of that, but I've learned how to live with it. I wasn't prepared to put up with him. I didn't run away just to get more of the same, so as soon as we docked in South Africa, I jumped ship and that was the end of my illustrious career at sea. I had to learn much quicker after that. I had to learn to fight and fight dirty, for I certainly wasn't going to let it happen to me ever again.

I suppose it’s a surprise that I didn’t turn out to be straight as a die after that or even scared off sex full stop. But meeting up with a few kind people, good, gentle people has taught me that there’s a world of difference between caring sex and forced sex.

So you see sweetheart, I know how you feel, I've always known. We're partners and equals more than you could ever know."

Bodie looked into Doyle's eyes which were bright with unshed tears.

"Does Alex know, about me being in hospital and everything?"

"No of course he doesn't, why would he?"

"I just wondered if I'd fucked everything up? I should have trusted you, Bodie, how could I not have trusted you? What on earth can I do to start making it up to you?"

"You can bloody well get yourself well again and come back to me you daft sod, that's what you can do."

Doyle laughed, smiling through his tears.

"Oh, Ray, what am I gonna do with you eh?"

"I tell you what you can do, Bodie." Doyle said quietly.

"Name it."

"You remember that time in the kitchen? When we'd just come in from the rain? The first time we kissed? Kiss me like that again, if you would, please."

His heart swelling in his chest, Bodie was only too pleased to oblige.

~~~oOo~~~

Epilogue

"Bodie, you do realise that it's only a month until Alex, Merry and the baby get here don't you?"

"Well I wouldn't panic about having one last go round with the Hoover just yet, Ray."

"Yeah but if we don't get these temps, sorted out then we might struggle to get any time off ourselves."

"Look. The interviews are tomorrow. I really don't see that there's any more we can do 'till then do you?"

"Do you think we should have left it as open interviews? After all we have no idea how many will turn up."

"Ray, look what happened last time. We'd more or less chosen who we wanted from the CVs before they even got here and the candidates we did want were the very ones that didn't show! Now we've advertised at the college, in the paper and in the job centre. They'll turn up, don't you worry about that, and whatever happens, we WILL be in the pub by half past six!"

"Have you thought anymore about us taking on someone to replace Finn?"

"Well we don't really need another nurseryman. There's nothing that you don't know about plants now after all and with the two of us, we've still got the same amount of full time staff that Alex had."

"Yeah but Alex never went on holiday in his life did he, and it would be nice to just go away whenever we felt like it rather than just to sticking to the two weeks in February. Besides, if we had someone else on board, then all of us could take holidays when we wanted, 'cos they could cover in the shop as well. Plus there's the extra work of course. After all, Alex never landed the Yardley contract did he? The money from that would easily pay for two extra full timers to be honest."

"I know what you mean, Ray. Some sort of trainee manager might not be a bad idea. We could always look at tomorrow’s shower and see if there's anyone we take a fancy to. Trouble is any of them that actually know anything about plants or business tend to be the students and they only want work until term time comes around again. Still, no harm in us keeping an eye out. If we don't find anyone, p'raps we ought to advertise more formally later on."

"Yeah I guess so." replied Doyle thoughtfully.

He was always nervous about leaving their precious nursery in the hands of other people. Though the property was in both their names, he had done everything in his power to start repaying his financial debt for it back to Bodie. Bodie hadn't wanted a penny from him, but it had become a matter of pride for Doyle and the huge effort that he had put into the place was paying dividends.

Bodie had been surprised at Doyle's natural aptitude for the business. He often had to pinch himself when he realised how much their lives had changed but how very suited they were to living this life among these people. For the first time in their lives, they had a multitude of friends who all adored them. It was a far cry from the time that their only associates were colleagues, grasses or out and out criminals.

"And another thing!" said Doyle, still brooding. "You can bet your life that Father will want to pay a visit, what with Claire going an' all. They'll be hell to pay if his favourite room's not ready!"

It quietly amused that partners that since taking semi-retirement, Cowley had visited his cousin more times recently than he had in twenty years.

"What do you think his excuse will be to come up here, when she emigrates, Bodie?"

"Well he's got all that time for gardening now hasn't he? Got to get his supplies from somewhere! Just think, when he retires permanently, he might even move up here. Be able to keep a closer eye on us still then, won't he?"

"Oh God forbid!" Said Doyle fondly. "We'd have to palm him off on Annie Fowl!"

"Now that, Raymond, is a very scary thought indeed! Don't worry yourself about next month, if the worse comes to the worst, you know Finn will always stand in. You know you've got him eating out of the palm of your hand."

"Yeah, I just don't like to put too much on him, Bodie, I've already got him servicing the Land Rover next week as it is."

"Getting a bottle of Bacardi out of it, isn’t he?"

"Yeah but if we tip much more of that stuff down his throat, he'll end up with liver failure!"

"Raymond, is your daily worry hour nearly over yet or might it carry on for a bit longer?"

"Why, did you have something in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking, bed, then pub."

Doyle frowned as if considering the offer. Then he slowly smiled his eyes shining.

"Last one up those stairs gets the first round in!"

"You're on!"

They careered around the corner almost colliding with Annie.

"Bodie! Doyle!" she admonished, you'll do yourselves a bloody mischief you mad young buggers!"

"Sorry Annie, but that's the general idea!" whooped Bodie gleefully as they sailed on past.

She shook her head resignedly. 'Damn young fools. More hormones than that darn cockerel, those two!' she smiled to herself.

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie and Doyle hated giving interviews. Over the years, the techniques they had been trained in had been rather more vicious and being pleasant to some of the idiots they had to see did not come easily.

Bodie was constantly surprised how difficult it seemed to be to get decent staff in such a tiny village. However, what with the hotel, shops, pubs and farms about the place, there were always positions waiting to be filled. The cream of youth also seemed to fly the rural nest as soon as was possible making its way to the bright lights of university towns and cities.

Trying to stave off an encroaching headache and dreaming of the pub, Bodie put down his pen and closed his ledger.

"Well that's the last of them, Ray, thank God."

"Yeah, loads more than I thought there would be."

"Shame quantity doesn't make up for quality doesn't it? Come on, mate let’s get out of this joint, I'm gagging for a pie and a pint after that lot."

Just about to lock up the office, the partners were interrupted by Shirley rushing in.

"Bodie, Ray, any chance you could fit in just one more lad please?"

"Bit bloody late isn't he, Shirl?" grumped Bodie

"Yes, I know he is, but he is the sweetest young chap, Bodie, and I did sort of tell him, I'd see what I could do."

Resigned, Bodie gave in.

"Ok, but just this one! After that I have an urgent appointment with a pint of Harvest Gold, I don't care if Percy Thrower himself turns up!"

"Thanks, Bodie, I'll send him right in."

Bodie sat back down and shared a pained look with his partner.

The final applicant entered the office and Bodie did a double take. Astonishment quickly turned to white hot anger as Bodie looked straight into the eyes of Jason Walsh.

"What the bloody HELL do you think you're doing here?"

Jason was obviously just as shocked to see Bodie and turned red as a beetroot.

"I ... I didn't know ... I swear I didn't know it was you two ..."

Bodie was all set to manually eject the shaking boy from the office when Jason spoke up.

"My ... my name is Jason Walsh and I'm twenty one years old. I live locally and I'm looking for work of any description. I'm not qualified to work in a place like this but I'm a quick learner and I know how to do what I'm told."

The quickly expelled statement seemed to drain Jason of all his energy and he sat down heavily in the interviewees chair expelling a breath as he did so.

Bodie suddenly remembered Doyle's presence next to him and looked at his partner, his own dumbfounded thoughts in complete disarray.

In contrast, Doyle actually appeared perfectly serene and was calm when he finally spoke.

"What are you doing in Norfolk, Jay?"

"It's Jason now, Mr. Dunc ... Oh God I'm sorry! Mr. Doyle! Sorry I just forgot, I didn't mean any..."

"It's okay, Jason, take your time. Tell me what you're doing here."

If anything, Jason was the most distressed out of all of them and Bodie was astounded at how level headed Doyle seemed.

"But you know what I did before! Oh God I can't work here! I never knew it was you two I really didn't, the advert just said report to the manager’s office, it didn't give any names! I'm really sorry, I'll go, I'm sorry ... "

Nearly tripping over his feet in his mad scramble to get up and leave, Jason choked back large lungful’s of air and Bodie realised that the boy was trying to fight back tears.

"Jason!" Doyle barked. "Sit back down and take a few deep breaths."

Jason complied but could not bring himself to meet the partner’s eyes.

"Right, that's better. Now tell me, how come you happen to be in Norfolk?"

Bodie kept quiet. It seemed all of a sudden, much to his surprise that Doyle was now running this particular show, which was absolutely fine with Bodie if Doyle thought he could cope with it.

Shakily, Jason began to tell his story.

"I met this guy, see. It was just in a normal pub, not one of those seedy joints that I used to work, I promise. He asked if he could buy me a drink, and we sort of hit it off. He's a year older than me and he's called Stephen. Well Stephen, he's been a bit cleverer than me see? When he left school he went straight to college and learned all about how to run hotels. Then last year the company's that's been puttin' him through college sent him up here as trainee manager for that big hotel on the bypass. I didn't really want him to go because, well because, I ... I love 'im.

After I met him, I didn't want to do what I'd been doin' anymore, not for a second more. I'da rather gone hungry than have to do it again. Anyway, it came to him havin' to leave and come up here and he asks me 'are you comin' with me then, Jason?' Well I didn't know that was an option did I, so when he asks me that, I was chuffed to bits. He gets his own quarters to live in, not part of the hotel proper like, as part of his job, and that's where we live. Trouble is see, now I want a job of me own. Stephen works hard and I don't want to sponge off him."

Bodie narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"So, you've got a boyfriend who's a trainee hotel manager? Don't tell me that he can't get you a bloody job easily enough?"

"Yes he could, Mr. Bodie, if I wanted him to. The thing ... the thing is … "

Jason screwed his eyes up tightly, talking about this obviously hurting him.

"The thing is, I really don't want to ever see the inside of someone else's hotel room ever again, if I can help it."

Bodie turned to look at his partner, unsurprised to see tears welling in Doyle's eyes as well.

Doyle stood.

"Come 'ere Jason."

He opened his arms to the distressed boy who flung himself into them like a drowning man after a life raft. Doyle held him until his tremors subsided and even the flabbergasted Bodie felt his eyes prickling.

Doyle checked to see that Jason had pulled himself together before speaking.

"Right. There's a trainee manager’s position going here should you want it. You'd be on a month’s trial. In that time, if you turn up late, you're out. If you steal from us, you're out. If I ever find out you've been shooting up, you're out. And it stands to reason that if at the end of the month, it turns out that you're fucking useless, you're out.

Now, you've already kept us from a very important appointment today. I suggest, if you're interested in the post, you get your skinny arse in this office at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning."

Jason looked at the partners, his eyes glowing with anticipation. Doyle recognised that he was working up to some sort of gratitude speech and waved him away, now desperate for that pint himself.

On their own again, Bodie stared at him incredulously.

"Doyle, I really cannot fucking believe you just did that you daft prat!"

"I'm sorry, Bodie. I know it was rash and I should have talked it through with you, but I couldn't NOT do it. Christ if it wasn't for that boy, we wouldn't even be sitting here now. That's not the reason I did it though. As I said before, he was a victim as much as I was. You gave me a chance, didn't you?"

Bodie raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Oh I know all that and it doesn't surprise me for a second that you took him on. The reason you're still a daft, fucking prat, Doyle, is you do realise that now thanks to you, you idiot, we've got to be up at eight o'clock in the bloody morning!"

~~~oOo~~~

After a month, nobody could quite remember what Lavender Cottage Nursery had been like before Jason Walsh had gone to work there.

He worked so hard that he actually began to develop some muscle much to Bodie's amusement and constant ribbing. He was a natural with customers, and could have sold ice to Eskimos. Many went happily away having bought far more than they had intended to. The ladies all fell completely in love with him. His infectious good humour and exuberant antics brightened up even the dullest of days.

Perhaps Jason's oddest new acquaintance was Annie. Doyle mused that she though she hadn't a maternal bone in her body, she had taken to the boy like a favoured son. Although they had a sixty year age gap between them, they talked to each other for hours, though nobody else had the slightest clue about what.

The night came when the workers were all to meet Jason's young man, Stephen. Jason was as nervous as a wild cat, secretly hoping for all their approval. Bodie had expected the trainee hotel manager to be as vibrant and excitable as his boyfriend, and everyone was surprised to meet the quiet, shy Stephen. It transpired that poor Stephen had been more or less holed up within the confines of the hotel ever since being posted there. It had simply not occurred to him that there might have been life outside its four walls. With his new friend’s easy acceptance of him, Stephen gradually came out of his shell and blossomed into a lovely young man and Doyle was immeasurably pleased for Jason. It was not long before Stephen was spending any free time he had from the hotel hanging around the nursery.

Bodie groused, but with underlying good humour.

"I dunno, Ray the place is like a cross between a youth club and a bloody day centre for the old and demented!"

"I know." smiled Doyle "Wouldn't change it for a thing though, would you?"

"Nah!" replied Bodie hugging him.

Without meaning to, they had acquired for themselves an extended family that they had never realised they had wanted. That family cared for them and cherished them, though its love could never quite match the love they felt for each other. True partners and equals in every sense, their hearts were bonded with glue so strong, they were simply two halves of one whole.

It was a late afternoon when Doyle spied Jason sat on an upturned crate, looking over the swathes of nodding purple flowers. Doyle went to join him.

"Do you ever think about it, Ray?" Jason asked quietly.

Doyle didn't need to ask Jason what he meant.

"Sometimes. I get the odd flashback or bad dream, but I don't let it worry me now like I did. It very nearly killed me at one point, but I had Bodie to bring me back to life and now you've got Stephen."

"I know how you feel. I was there too. For a long time, Ray, for too long. Thanks for what you've done for me."

"Thank you, Jase. Thank you for everything."

Their eyes met and briefly, so did their lips in a sweet kiss which spoke of understanding, comradeship and survival.

Doyle looked up to see Bodie watching them, a shy smile on his face.

"Go on, get you gone boy, you're on the early shift tomorrow!" Doyle winked at Jason before going to join his partner.

Bodie touched Doyle's shoulder and they looked into each other’s eyes.

"He all right?"

Doyle closed his eyes and gently nodded an affirmative.

"You all right?"

“Yes, Bodie, I'm all right."

"Well that's all right then. Come on then, Sunshine." he said taking Doyle's hand and turning his back on the shimmering fields.

"Let’s go home."

~~~oOo~~~

 

_“A flower in the wasteland caught between nowhere and no place a ray of light in the endless night a night of broken promises, lost hope and stolen dreams”_

_Flowers in the Wasteland ~ Lisa Chappell_

FIN


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